Breaking Point
by G.Eliot
Summary: Trip and Malcolm get stranded on an eerie alien world.[COMPLETE]
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I, naturally, do not the Enterprise characters, I don't have that kind of luck. This was written purely for fun!

There was an alarming buzz coming from somewhere around his ear, but comprehension alluded him. It meant something, but when he attempted to dredge up exactly what, it would maddeningly slip away from him again. Every time he stood on the verge of recollection his thoughts would crumble, and would not be able to recall their structure. Abruptly, he experienced a jolt, and his eyes sprang open. A low moan escaped his lips as the world came into focus. Everything was wrong, the top of his body was unexplainably heavier then it should have been. His arms dangled, haphazard, above his head...dangled? He twisted around only to have whatever was holding him to the floor give way a little and he dropped sharply closer to the ceiling, or what should have been the ceiling.  
  
A shuttle pod, now his disoriented mind began to register the surroundings, they had been trying to do minor repairs on Enterprise after unexpectedly coming across an asteroid field. The field was being gravitationally pulled in to a neighboring white dwarf, or at least that was what they had thought it was. Trip had never seen a dwarf emit such a violent flare, it was enough to knock Enterprise off coarse and toss the pod with violent ease back into the field of doomed stellar flotsam. He remembered the pod tumbling erratically, he hadn't been able to regain control and then...nothing.  
  
A splash of water hit the side of his head preventing him from slipping back into the consuming darkness, he realized the whole side of the craft was gone; it had been peeled back like the top of an aluminum can. The gaping smoldering hole revealed a bizarre landscape, the green sea and the pale sky seemed to have swapped places. Trip strained his neck to look towards the back.  
"Malcolm," he croaked, his voice not particularly sounding like his own. Through the residual smoke he could dimly see the Lieutenant hanging from his seat in the over turned shuttle. Malcolm did not respond to his call. They both were still held firmly in place by the shuttles seat restraints. Trip fumbled with the clasps across his chest. They released with a soft click and he fell hard, and rather limply, to the flooded ceiling with a watery thud. He got shakily to his feet and reached up to touch the still ringing alarm. The glowing message 'low altitude' on the display panel vanished as he depressed a button. Suddenly, a funny spasm of pain ran across his left side, he grimaced suppressing a cry, but continued sloshing towards Malcolm. Tentatively, he took the other man's wrist between his fingers in an attempt to find a pulse. An expression of relief spread briefly across his face, he shook his friend slightly,  
"Lieutenant," he called, "Malcolm!" but this failed to elicit any response in the other man. Trip reached for the clasps on Malcolm's chair, but only got so far, a couple of them had melted or smashed together. He cast around in the slowly flooding craft and quickly selected a jagged scrap of wreckage. He slashed through the remaining restraints with more ease then he had expected. However, the dead weight of Malcolm's body was a bit more then Trip anticipated and they both crumpled to the ceiling with a splash. Trip sputtered and coughed, scrambling to turn the unconscious man onto his back. Malcolm issued a slight moan. Squinting, Trip tried to get an estimation of just how badly the Lieutenant was hurt; but all he could see in the dim light was some cut or other across his cheek, and burns on his upper arms. Trip began to drag him towards the large breech in the hull. He could hear the waves crashing on the shore and knew they weren't far from land, but the tide was definitely coming in fast. Carefully, he maneuvered Malcolm out of the pod and into the thigh deep sea water.  
"'Least it's not cold." He muttered, with a glance in the direction of the land mass. A pale beach lay only about three hundred yards away. He realized, to, that he should be gratefully the air was breathable, and especially that they had managed to land somewhere with atmosphere at all. But then, if they had ended up somewhere with no atmosphere perhaps the pod wouldn't have burned up at all. As he towed Malcolm through the choppy water, rather unceremoniously by the armpits, he turned back to observe the damaged shuttle. The pod's nose was crumpled in, as if that was where it had impacted, and probably bounced a few hundred feet before coming to a halt upside down in the low water. Wisps of black smoke were still peeling off the hull when the sea breeze kicked up.  
He collapsed on the shore, breathing heavily, and side burning as though it were on fire. For a few moments it was all he could do to keep conscious. There were numerous holes in both men's uniforms. The sea water had further irritated Trip's scorched skin. The rising blisters stung and turned an angry crimson. Malcolm stirred. Trip hauled himself into a sitting position, wincing, and shook the Lieutenant's shoulder gently.  
"Hey, Malcolm, wake up, Mal," he called jostling him a bit more, "Come on Lieutenant, that's an order!" he said trying to appeal to the man's almost obsessive sense of duty. Malcolm appeared to be struggling to open his eyes. "Yer almost there, all you need to do is open your eyes," Trip tried to encourage.  
"W-what happened?" he asked groggily coming around. Trip shook his head,  
"I'm not sure. Some sort of flare from that star threw us off course," Malcolm cautiously propped himself up on his elbows.  
"I remember that, any idea where we ended up?" he asked slowly, observing the dull grayish sand in which he lay.  
"Well," Trip said thoughtfully looking at the pale almost white sky in which a small intense sun shown brilliantly, "I don't recall T'pol mentioning any planets worth looking at." He said glancing over his shoulder to where strange, dull green flora seemed to be thriving, "but this sort of looks at least note worthy to me." Malcolm coughed,  
"Maybe she couldn't see it. There was a lot of radiation, and frequency disruptions in the asteroid field." Trip raised an eyebrow at that explanation. "Well it's possible." Malcolm said a bit defensively, "We weren't particularly looking for planets when we were scrambling to get out of there." He said trying to sit up, but sank quickly back down, the strange world was spinning and wobbling oddly. He closed his eyes as sharp pains ran down his neck from the top of his head.  
"Okay, okay, take it easy, where you hurt?" Trip asked his face darkening in concern.  
"I don't know, ahhh, my head feels like someone's taken an ice pick to it." He murmured. Trip peered closely at him, what he had thought was a cut on his face in the dim pod was actually a thick trail of semi congealed blood. He traced it back into Malcolm's hair, just above his right ear a piece of debris from the shuttle was stuck, rather tightly, into his skull. He tried to swallow a wave of nausea he felt while looking at the rather gruesome sight. "What is it?" Malcolm asked through gritted teeth. Worried by Trip's silence he added, "Commander?"  
"You, ah, there's ah, a piece of shuttle pod sticken' outta yer head."  
"What?!" Trip bit his tongue wishing he hadn't just blurted out exactly what he was thinking.  
"Uh, calm down, it's just a bit of Plexiglas or something," he said pushing apart the other man's dark hair with two thumbs, exposing the wound more clearly.  
"Do you think you can get it out?" Malcolm asked faintly. Trip looked rather startled by that prospect,  
"What? Me? Do you think that's a good idea?"  
"Well I don't think leaving it in is a much better one. We don't know how long were going to be here, and I don't fancy the thought of having it fester." He grunted then added, "Nor do I like having anything sticking out of my head for any amount of time." He said envisioning some monstrous piece of the shuttle door protruding from his head like an odd hat. Trip drew his mouth in to a thin line,  
"I'm not a doctor, but I'm fairly certain that I could do more harm then good if I mess with it."  
"Look, I don't think it penetrated my skull or I'd probably have much more severe symptoms than just an enormous headache." Malcolm said his voice starting to carry a slight edge. Trip's brow furrowed, not particularly liking this, but felt Malcolm's words held some truth.  
"All right," he said gingerly touching the sharp shard, "ready?" Malcolm nodded. He grasped it tightly; the Lieutenant's eyes squeezed shut. Trip pulled, there was a snap.  
"D-did you get it?" he asked through tightly clenched teeth, seeing colorful explosions on the back of his eyelids. Trip exhaled heavily,  
"No, it broke off." He handed the chunk to Malcolm, who turned it over in this palm slowly. "I don't think I can get it out now." Trip contemplated, looking at the wound. The debris appeared to have gone in at a shallow angle, but now it was flush with his scalp.  
"Maybe it's for the best." He said softly. Trip's brow lifted, "I mean, you're right, you're obviously not a doctor." He said with just barley a hint of a smile hiding in the corners of his mouth. Trip shook his head, one side of his mouth turning up in a smile,  
"You're just lucky you have such a thick skull. Come on, let's get closer to those trees...or whatever they are. They'll give us some shelter tonight." he said. Malcolm nodded, noting the intense sun sinking in the pallid sky.  
  
Proving to be most unstable on his feet, Trip assisted the lieutenant to the shade of the tall plants and went in search of dry wood.  
"You'd think there'd be something to eat here," Trip commented after they had gotten a small sort of smoky fire started. Malcolm was situated against one of the foreign looking trees. The plants had enormous flat brittle leaves. Trip was reaching up into the plants foliage, hand not visible up to the elbow as he rustled around.  
"I highly doubt you're going to find a coconut in there." Malcolm said dryly.  
"Doesn't hurt to look," Suddenly he withdrew his arm wincing, hot pain coursed through his side.  
"What is it?" Malcolm asked in concern, at his expression, "Are you hurt?" Trip waved a hand, abandoning his foraging, and sat down heavily next to him,  
"Na, just some bruised ribs or something." He said breathing too heavily for Malcolm's liking.  
"No offence Sir, but I believed we already established that you are not a doctor."  
"Yeah, well, neither are you Lieutenant." Trip said irritably. Malcolm instantly fell silent. "Look, if it's not better by the morning I'll let you look at it. Would that make you feel better?" Trip amended with a sigh.  
"Well it is only fair that I should be allowed the opportunity to return the favor."  
  
"What favor? I didn't get that massive shuttle shard outta you." Trip pointed out.  
"Yes, so don't expect too much from me." But Trip wasn't listening anymore; he was looking distractedly into the foliage behind them. His head was cocked to one side, eyes narrowed.  
"Shhhh," he said softly.  
"What?" Malcolm said in a low tone, immediately on guard. There was no sound but the breeze. Trip frowned,  
"Nothing I guess, it's just it's so quiet here, and I thought I heard something. Have you noticed that there are no animals here?"  
"Just because we haven't seen any doesn't mean their not here." Malcolm patronized.  
"You don't think we would have seen somethin' by now, an insect, anything."  
"Not necessarily; and frankly, the farther away they are while we're unarmed the better." They were silent for a moment. The only noise was the steady crashing of the ocean waves.  
"Hopefully the tide will have gone back out by morning, and we can go see if anything is salvageable." Trip said. Malcolm nodded; he was beginning to drift off. Trip glanced at him, "I'll take first watch."  
  
He wasn't sure what time of night it was when it happened, but he had been staring into the dying embers of there fire when he heard that noise again. It wasn't just a rustle; it wasn't anything even that distinct. He stood up and glanced around the camp. He was just about to dismiss it as his imagination again, when he turned around and found himself facing a pair of large gleaming eyes. Almost luminescent violet and definitely alien, they peered out at him from the forest like greenery. Badly startled, he stumbled backward tripping over his feet in the loose sand. He scrambled to his feet, but when he looked again, the eyes had vanished. He stared about in panicky terror, but there was nothing. What he found even more disturbing was that he couldn't recall if he had actually seen the creature's face or not. He didn't understand the fear those eyes had inflicted upon him. Silently cursing his trembling hands, he sat nervously back down by Malcolm.  
  
The brilliant sun pierced through Trip's eyelids the next morning. He opened them slowly, squinting in the light. He felt a surge of guilt recalling he had been on watch. Slowly, he turned to wake Malcolm, but he found the other side of the tree unoccupied, and the Lieutenant was no where in sight.  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
TBC Please let me know if you would like this to continue.  
Reviews of all sorts are most welcome!


	2. chapter 2

Disclaimer: see chapter one

a/n Thanks so much to all of you who reviewed!!!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Trip jumped up from the sand,

            "Malcolm!" he intended to call, but it came out more like a bark.

             Silence answered him. He fought to suppress his rising panic that threatened to swallow his mind like a dark tide. The beach was calm and serene as the day before, however a few clouds now peppered the sky. The sand had been blown about during the night; erasing all imprints the two men had made on the shore. The tranquility was infuriating.

            '…Maybe he's just off in those trees…' Trip tried to reason with his instincts, but continued to yell,

            "Malcolm! Where'd ya go?" He paused hoping for some response. Nothing.

            "Lieutenant answer me!"          

             The stillness was oppressing, the beach was beginning to heat under the strong sun, and little mirages appeared shimmering over the hot sand. He stopped pacing the silty timber line abruptly. Not twenty feet from where they had slept, was a path. It was old and over grown, and at one point had been laid with stones; however, the ground cover that nearly obscured it from sight had been recently crushed and trampled. Trip noted, with a sinking feeling, that the damage done to the bramble was more then any man would have made while cautiously looking for a place to relieve himself.

            Sloshing purposefully back out into the emerald water the commander waded towards the wrecked shuttle pod. Various bits of equipment and parts had been swept out of the craft by the sea; he made attempts to snag whatever might still be useful as it floated by. Unfortunately, there wasn't much. Climbing, with some amount of difficulty, into the pod, he saw a good number of control panels were still lit. Quickly, he gathered up whatever was undamaged, or at least, only partially damaged. He stowed away food, water, blankets, whatever he could find in a silver storage unit that had been under (which was now above) a seat. The medical kit was pretty much destroyed, but the though maybe the bandages could dry out. He kicked around in the water with his foot, trying to surface things that had been covered by the tide. Finally he found what he had been hoping to. Lifting a small, dripping case from the water he opened it. This was the one phase pistol on the shuttle that he knew of. But, disappointingly, when he popped the case, he found the weapon damaged. It wasn't a surprised, but rather he was amazed that there was anything at all left in one piece after an impact like that. The phaser was sort of crunched to one side, but perhaps not un-repairable. He took it.

            Before leaving he checked one of the panels above his head. His fingers slid expertly over a few buttons and switches, and the homing beacon began broadcasting its signal into the heavens. With any luck Enterprise would be able to find them. As Trip lowered his arm, the burning pain returned, almost twice as bad as the day before. He felt his stomach give a queasy lurch with the intense pain, and slumped against the wall sinking slowly down into the water. Struggling to recover, and not give into the alluring pain-free bliss unconsciousness offered, he grimaced dragging himself up. Clutching the wall white knuckled, he inched his way along the interior.

            "I'm beginning to think Malcolm was right," he murmured creeping towards the hole that had been doubling for a door, "that crash did more then bruise a couple ribs." Resolutely pulling himself together, he trudged back to shore; lugging the supplies.

            The sun was rising quickly and its intensity was growing. The temperature was becoming less and less comfortable. Sweat trickled down the Commander's face. His burns from the pod landing were prickling again, presumably because of the sea water exposure. Panting, he slung what he'd managed to bring ashore carelessly down and dropped to his knees. Thankfully, the pain in his side was fading again. He wiped the sweat from his brow attempting to stay focused. He pulled out a light pack and began filling it with the salvaged supplies. He walked down to were the old trail began,

            "Malcolm!" he tried one last time, looking around the beach. No response. He shrugged, it was worth a shot. He stopped before the trampled path. He really wished his attempts to banish the overwhelming trepidation he kept experiencing would work. Yet his fear did not diminish as he began down the shadowy path.

            "Where is T'pol when you need her." He whispered under his breath.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Malcolm's mind wandered unaware of time or place. This rest wasn't the kind one would call refreshing. Gradually his eyes opened, he had no idea where he was. His head throbbed and pounded. Confused he glanced about and found he was in a small domed room, with a white ceiling. The last thing he remembered was Trip saying something about first watch. He shook his head with a wry expression and thought,

            'Don't send the engineer to do the security officer's work.' He was bound to the hut's solitary support beam in the center of the room. The architecture sort of resembled that of an umbrella's. The only light being let in was from three round windows near the top of the dome. Gently, he tested his bonds.

            "You won't get out unless I want you to." Hissed a silvery voice, neither recognizably male nor female. Malcolm's head snapped up, back going ridged against the pole.

            "Who's there?" he demanded loudly, feeling extremely venerable, "What do you want from me?" The room was still, outside the trees rustled loudly in the wind.

            "I do not want anything." The voice replied now with the cadence of silk. It was coming from opposite side of the dim room now. Malcolm's head whipped around, the hair on the back of his neck rising up. He couldn't entirely make out the form over there.

            "Then why an I here?" he was doing his best to sound angry.

            "It is for your own protection."

            "What if I don't want your protection?" he asked through gritted teeth, he did not care for the direction of this conversation one bit.

            "You will." Came the flowing response.

            "Why have I been tied me up? Forgive me if I don't entirely trust you." He spat. He was rewarded with a few moments silence. After several minutes he conceded inwardly that this was unproductive and begrudgingly continued,

            "You might as well tell me what you're 'protecting' me from." He paused, "And why me? Where's Trip?" All was still. He strained through the darkness to see if anyone was in the corner he had last heard the voice.

            "The other is safe… for now." The voice spoke softly from above. Malcolm nearly bit his tongue it spooked him so much. "It always goes for the smaller, less threatening ones first. I know. I remember… You appear more damaged then the other, you were in greater danger last night…it is…systematic…"

            "What is?" Malcolm asked biting back his irritation at how this voice described him. "Why don't I remember you taking me?  I find it very difficult to believe you are helping me when I feel like a prisoner." He strained to see more of the ceiling, "Why should I place my trust in _you_?"  There was a soft hiss in response. A laugh?

            "It is unimportant whether you believe me or not. Understanding is best gained through experience not expression." The voice said sliding over the words like velvet. Malcolm strained his sharp eyes toward a darkened corner of the room, where some shadowy form appeared to be lurking.

            "What are you," he asked slowly, and deliberately, eyes narrowing.

            "Malcolm!" A thundering voice, unexpectedly nearby, broke the tension build by the Lieutenant's discussion with the shadows. "Where are you?" The form seemed to have vanished.

            "Trip!" he yelled back, "In here!" Malcolm's mind refused to believe that the corner he had staring at, and speaking with, was now utterly vacant. Not one exit in the room had been touched, he was positive. Just as he was about to expel the breath in his lungs in the form of another shout, the creaky door to the room shuttered. His voice seemed momentarily caught in his throat. The door rattled more violently. Then with a final shutter it fell off its hinges into the room with a crash, landing inches from the Lieutenant's toes. He looked up to see Trip's form darkly silhouetted against the bright day light.

            "Malcolm!" Trip breathed in obvious relief, making his way with heavy footsteps around the felled door. "Are you alright?"

            "F-fine," Malcolm said choking on the dust the fallen door had sent into the air.

            "Sorry," Trip said acknowledging the broken door, "The thing was stuck, and when I forced it a little," he shrugged, "it just gave way. Not much of holdin' cell." He said beginning to work on the Lieutenant's bonds. "What happened?"

            "I don't know, I can't remember leaving the camp. I woke up and there was this, this _thing_ in here with me."

            "Thing?" Trip said tensing with the memory of the luminous eyes he and seen last night.

            "Yes, it spoke to me. It claimed to be protecting me or some rubbish."

            "Malcolm, did you happen to see its eyes?" he asked somewhat unsteadily.

            "No," Malcolm frowned, giving the Commander a curious look, "I never got a good look at it. It moved around the room silently, so I never knew precisely where it was. A scare tactic I should think. Why?" Trip swallowed,

            "Probably nothing, just that, ah, well last night I thought that I saw somethin' in the forest."

            "What kind of something?"

            "I thought I saw some eyes," Malcolm gave him a close look. Trip frowned, "I know what yer thinkin', but I swear, they were huge glowin' purple eyes."

            "Why didn't you wake me?" Malcolm asked in disbelief, Trip sighed,   

            "I thought about it, but you were sleeping, and I wasn't entirely sure I'd seen it. I mean, purple eyes? I thought maybe my imagination was gettin' away from me."

            "Something isn't right here." Malcolm shook his head. The understatement provoked a smile from Trip,

            "I'll say. Whoever left you all tied up in the middle of an abandoned settlement unguarded and with a companion not more then two miles away, wasn't exactly trying to accomplish much."

            "Trip," Malcolm said quietly, inflicting his voice with a certain note that made the Commander look up from his work. Through the open door, other crumbing little huts could be seen. The one directly facing them had a rotting door, and through the missing planks, a pair of great, gleaming, violet eyes shone, unblinkingly. "Trip!" Malcolm whispered frantically, "Finish untying me!" The Commander had frozen in place. Suddenly snapping out of it Trip began pulling at the cords in pure panic.

            "Hurry!" Malcolm cranked his head back to speak, terror of the most electric kind coursing through him.

            "Almost …" Trip was saying when the room went unexplainably dimmer, "there." He finished in a whisper, dropping the loosened ropes to the floor. Malcom staggered to his feet, they gaped. The door was back on its hinges, standing upright and closed in place.

            "Did you…" Trip began. Malcolm shook his head,

            "I didn't see anything." He said in barely more then a whisper, suddenly pale. They stared at the door as though they thought it might explode. Trip shivered,

            "It seem colder in here to you?" he asked. Malcolm nodded, hand instinctively reaching for where his phaser would normally hang. Trip took a step towards the door and slowly placed a hand on it. Cool, much cooler then the surface should have been on such a warm day. With a firm shove he toppled the door outward; it fell with a soft thud on a muddy dirt trail. They were no longer in the muggy little village by the shore, but the view that greeted them was on a much grander scale. They stood on narrow mountain path, the vast familiar green sea sprawling out below them. A chilly wind blew up here. Astounded, and completely befuddled, Trip whirled around to find only Malcolm behind him; the hut they had been standing in was no where in sight.

            "I think, Commander, we may be in more trouble then we thought." Malcolm said softly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TBC Reviews of all sorts are most welcome! And very much appreciated!

a/n: The next chapter might be a few days; I have extra shifts at work this week.

(I hate doubles)


	3. chapter 3

Disclaimer: see chapter one

a/n: Hey! I'm so glad you're reviewing this! Thanks!                                                                     -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            A cool wind blew steadily through the tall trees growing on the mountainside. Trip and Malcolm steadily made their way up it.

            After recovering from the surprise, and disorientation upon opening the hut's door, they'd made the unfortunate discovery that the only place to go from this point was up. The dirt path they were on, when traced back down the hillside a few yards, led to a sheer cliff face rising high above the ocean.

            So they began to climb. And as they did, Malcolm had informed Trip of what that thing had told him.

            "Sounds like this thing has the complex of a psychopath," Trip had grunted. He wasn't entirely convinced the purple-eyed creature and whatever Malcolm had encounter were two separate entities. The Lieutenant, on the other hand, was thoroughly convinced they were dealing with two beings.

            "I can't explain it, but I got the distinct impression that these two things are completely independent of one another." Malcolm panted following Trip up the path.

            "Yeah, well, isn't that how psychotic people are? Flip personalities?" Trip suggested. Malcolm was thoughtful,

            "I think you mean schizophrenic people, but were not dealing with _people_ here." He corrected, "But I really don't think that it's the same creature. It's hard to explain."

            "I guess I'll reserve judgment until I meet personality number two." Trip commented, mind clearly already made up. Malcolm's jaw tightened ever so slightly as he attempted to keep his indignation in check. His head was throbbing and Trip, he thought, insisted on provoking him.

            "Where are we going anyhow? We don't even know if were on the same continent anymore!"  The Lieutenant exclaimed in exasperation. Trip turned around, brow furrowed,

            "I don't know about you, but I'm getting of this damn mountain." He said mildly in comparison to his word choice, "We can't have gone too far; these clouds have been growin' since this morning. If we were on the other side of the world I'd think the weather would be different." He said, squinting at the white clouds that were beginning to stack themselves like towers in the sky. "Do you…" Trip began but suddenly noticed the other man leaning on a rock structure that jutted out of the hillside. His forehead was pressed into the palm of his hand. "Malcolm, sit down. Ya should of said your head was botherin' you." Trip frowned slinging the pack he carried off his shoulders.

            "I-It's fine." Malcolm drew a shaky breath, wincing a little, "We should keep going." Trip looked at him skeptically, obviously not convinced,

            "Sit. We're in no hurry. And as you pointed out, we're doin' little more then wander." He said softly. Malcolm sank down into the gravely dirt, wishing the world would stop spinning so. He felt like he might be sick. Trip produced the mangled remains of the only medical kit he'd been able to recover. He looked at the Lieutenant's flushed face with concern. He knew that Malcolm had probably developed a fever. "Tip your head this way," Trip instructed, squatting by the injured man. Malcolm's eyes squeezed shut as the Commander carefully examined the wound. The whole area around the foreign object wedged firmly into bone, was puffed up and red. A liquid, rather milky in appearance oozed around it,

            "Well," Trip said looking at the pathetic treatment options he had, "I can dress it, but I'm not sure these hypo sprays will work." He held up the bent devise.

            "I suppose I'll have to go without the anesthetic. Wouldn't be wise for you to inject me with at faulty instrument, with my luck I'd have an air bubble go strait to my heart." Malcolm tried to joke, "Is it getting hotter up here?" he breathed. Trip didn't answer as he began to clean the wound, but his face was lined with worry. Gently, he wrapped some length of white gauze around Malcolm's head, just above the ears.

            "How do you feel?" Trip asked eyeing the Lieutenant carefully.

            "I've been better." Malcolm said faintly, then attempted to rise,

            "Whoa, Whoa!" Trip exclaimed, "I think that, uh, we, can afford to rest a while." He said laying a hand on Malcolm's shoulder. Malcolm offered little physical resistance to the pressure Trip applied; he sank back down.

            "Right here? In the open?" The Lieutenant seemed dubious.

            "Aw, we'll be fine. I'll keep my eyes open." Malcolm muttered something that sounded an awful lot like 'look where that landed us last time.'

            "What was that Lieutenant?" Trip asked sharply,

            "Brilliant plan Sir." Malcolm said in a falsely cheery voice.

            "That's what I thought." Trip said, amused. Silence lapsed, not uncomfortable, between them. Malcolm tried to steady his breathing.

            "Ya know, in that hut, just before it vanished, did you feel anything?" Malcolm looked over at him,

            "Feel?"

            "Yeah, did you notice anything?"

            "You mean besides the temperature drop?" Trip nodded, "Not that I remember, why?"

            "I dunno, it's just… I thought I felt something. Something, kinda familiar…like the transporter I think." Malcolm frowned,

            "You think someone used transporter technology on us?"

            "I don't know." There was a rumble in the distance. Trip's gaze shifted upward, the clouds had fast formed spotty squalls moving towards the coastline. The breeze picked up. Malcolm closed his eyes as it lifted his hair off his hot forehead, cooling it delightfully.

            "Hey, Mal?" came Trip's voice, much too gently, Malcolm knew he was worried.

            "Hmm?"

            "Do you think you could go on for a bit now? Looks like storms are comin'." Truthfully, Malcolm felt that he could just sit forever on this rocky spot with the blessedly cool breeze. With a nod he accepted Trip's help in getting to his feet, and the pair began their climb again.

            Trip was sure he'd seen some outcroppings of rock farther up. Perhaps they could provide some shelter where they could wait out the weather. The sky continued to become increasingly cloudy and dark. He glanced back over his shoulder every few minutes to make sure Malcolm was keeping up. The wind had picked up; the tree limbs above groaned and swished noisily.

            "You okay back there?" he called.

            "For the moment," Malcolm panted.

            "See that concave rock face over there?" The Commander said loudly over the rising wind, "I'm betting it'll give us some shelter 'till this passes." Malcolm squinted up the direction Trip was gesturing,

            "Possibly, but if we go past it another twenty yards or so, we should find a cave." Trip gave him an odd look,

            "What?"

            "Trust me Commander. I still remember some of the things I read while earning my geology badge." He explained briefly, and took the lead. He heard Trip make some comment ending in 'boy scouts' as he passed, but did not ask him to repeat it.

            The cave was not as poorly lit as it might have been. The mouth of it was wide and flat, they had to duck in order to enter in. Malcolm lowered himself slowly to the floor. The first clap of thunder echoed around the hollow chamber.

            "I'll be right back," Trip said with a bit of a shiver, "I've a feeling it's gonna get cold and we are going to need dry wood for a fire." He disappeared outside. Malcolm looked about the cave. It was shallow, but wide, with stalagmite shooting up from the ground towards the back, many had met a stalactite coming down from the ceiling and merged into one stony post. There was a quite dripping somewhere. He moved his legs, and the shifting stones under them rang out rather obnoxiously loud for his sore head. Quite minutes passed. Just as he closed his eyes, something jolted him awake; it raised the hair on the back of his neck. Tensing he looked around the suddenly ominous interior. There was a soft hiss.

            "Who's there?" he called out rising part way to his feet. The hiss continued like a steady exhale. "Answer me!" he shouted backing up against the wall, his voice echoed mimicking his demand mockingly. There was another clap of thunder that shook the ground.

            "Whew, it really started coming down all at once." Trip said coming back with an armful of twigs and sticks. Malcolm looked towards the opening, rain dripped off it forming a shimming curtain. The rain hissed as it struck fallen foliage. It was the rain. He'd only heard the rain.

            "Are you okay?" Trip asked inclining his head ever so slightly to the side.

            "Yes," Malcolm breathed sinking back down to the ground, "fine."

---     ----   ----     ----     ----  ----   ----    ----   ----     ----      ----      ----         ----       ----   

            "Ya know, most things taste better when they're cooked over an open flame," Trip said stirring around his freeze dried rations together, "but this actually tastes worse."

Malcolm observed him with a degree of disdain,

            "They might have been better if you hadn't blended the entire plate together." He stated, keeping his entrée and side dish a respectable distance from one another.

            "Mixin' it might not improve it, but I doubt it makes it taste much worse."

            "Each to his own I suppose." The Lieutenant curtailed the conversation before it could escalate. Trip smirked, and then coughed setting aside his half finished plate. Malcolm raised an eyebrow, and said:

            "Well I must say that's has to be a first." Trip shrugged,

            "Eh, I suddenly don't feel that hungry." He said easing himself into a lying position on the ground. Malcolm watched him carefully,

            "How is your side?" he asked pointedly. Trip rolled his head toward him,

            "What? Oh. It comes and goes. Mostly it hasn't bothered me." He shrugged it off, not wanting to concern him. But it was too late for that, Malcolm easily saw through this.

            "You're not very apt when it comes to hiding things." He said noting the Commander's pale face. Trip raised an eyebrow,

            "Are you calling me transparent or a bad liar?"

            "A little of both, I should think." Trip only nodded, evidently satisfied by that answer.

            "Well, it's time you let me take a look at it." Malcolm eased himself down by the other man.

            "Hey, careful now, you should be the one resting." He said rummaging through his pack, and producing a couple of blankets. "Here," he handed one to Malcolm. The Lieutenant patiently put it aside,

            "You can't buy me off with a blanket. Have you even looked at it yet?" He said refusing to be distracted. Trip sighed wearily, and unzipped his jumpsuit to the waist working his arms out of his sleeves. He shivered as he pulled up his black undershirt. There was a rather large discolored spot, raised slightly, on his side just below his ribs.

            "See? Nothin' but a bruise." He said with a bit of a smile. Malcolm gave him a dark look,

            "That doesn't look like a bruise." He said pressing slightly on in with the back of his hand, it was warmer, and more ridged then the rest of his skin.

            "Easy!" Trip gasped at his touch. Malcolm frowned,

            "This doesn't look good. It could be internal injuries."  He stated seriously.

            "Great. I knew doin' this would only end depressingly." He said quickly putting his arms back into his sleeves, "Go on and get some sleep first." He said, not wanting to think about what he couldn't fix. Malcolm shook his head,

            "I'm fine, really. You go first." Trip looked at him steadily. Malcolm looked evenly back, he effortlessly hid the fact his head was burning. Trip hated his stubbornness, and gave in.

            "Alright, fine, if you're sure,"

            "I am." He was reassured, and Trip laid down huddling beneath the blanket.

----     ----   -----   -----    -----  ----   ---- ----   ---- ----  --- ---- --- ---  ---    ---  ---- --- --  ----

            Blinding pain and nothing else. It hurt like nothing ever had before.

            "Trip!" came Malcolm's voice through the haze, "Trip!" Blearily he looked up into the very anxious face of the Lieutenant, before another wave of agonizing pain washed over him, he groaned. Malcolm laid his hand softly on the Commander's side,

            "Is it very bad?"

            "Malcolm?" Trip asked not being able to focus on his words.

            "Shhh, just lie still." He said for lack of better advice, hoping it would pass. Trip's face was pale and clammy. Slowly, it subsided.

            "I'm thirsty," he panted. Malcolm helped him sit up far enough to drink some of what had been taken from the shuttle.

            "How do you feel?" he asked pulling Trip's blanket around him again in a parental fashion. Through the subsiding pain he gave him a wry look,

            "S-seems were askin' each other that more and more." Malcolm smiled tightly using only the corners of his mouth.

            "I believe you're right Commander." A stone shifted somewhere towards the back of the cavern. Both men started, staring through fire's flames.

            "Did you hear that?" Malcolm asked. Trip nodded.  Lighting flickered outside, lighting up the cave in an eerie manner. The moment the extra light vanished, two large violet eyes appeared on the opposite end of the cave. They came so suddenly it was as though they'd arrived on the thunder, shinning with a strange incandescence they stared unblinkingly. Malcolm scrambled back, Trip couldn't quite get himself off the floor. The eyes moved, almost with a serpentine motion, closer, and closer.

            "Go! Now!" Trip said low, reaching for the pack of supplies, "Ahhgg," he clutched his side.

            "No time!" Malcolm said, trying to help Trip up. There was a strange, low growl; the eyes were hidden in the shadows not four feet away. They narrowed, the creature sprang. Malcolm to Trips utter astonishment stepped in front of him. Malcolm saw a flash of claws and teeth, thunder clapped deafeningly, and something happened. He couldn't be sure, it all happened so fast, the thing seemed to freeze in mid leap, flickered (if that was possible) and was gone. Vanished. He wondered briefly about his sanity, but glancing down at his uniform he saw four new slashes in the fabric across his chest. There was the sound of more stones toppling.

            "Run!" Trip yelled, Malcolm snatched the supplies and they fled out into the stormy night.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TBC As always, reviews of all sorts are most welcome!


	4. chapter 4

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

a/n: So many nice reviews!! I'm so glad you all like this! Thanks for reviewing!

And thanks my great beta reader!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rain poured down, the wind howled; Trip and Malcolm tore down the mountainside, tumbling and skidding through the thick sloshy mud. They grasped at tree trunks as they passed to keep from losing their balance too often. Neither looked back, and neither had any desire to. Instinct told them speed was essential to their escape. Branches whipped past them, sticking, and occasionally splitting new holes in their rapidly tattering uniforms. Neither knew how long, or how far they'd come. If they fell they jumped back up, as if compelled by a force too strong to be undermined by weak flesh. It didn't matter if they were physically too weak to continue the compulsion was stronger. All that mattered was that next step forward.

Night faded into gloomy day, and they ran slowly, ploddingly, gasping for air. They did not see that the mountain's slope had become gentle, or even notice the rain had turned to drizzle. They were drenched to the core, sopping along woodenly, lungs pleading for air, muscles pleading for rest, eyes dull and glazed over. A root caught Trip's boot for maybe the twelfth time that since they had begun their flight. He went careening head long, and tumbled a little ways down the hill. Malcolm glanced back to make sure that his companion continued on their path, but unlike the other times Trip did not get up. He'd landed hard on his side. Malcolm turned around to go check on him, yet found his exhausted body would barely let him climb back up. He inched his way to Trip on hands and knees, panting. Trip rolled himself over to get his face out of the mud. Too out of breath to speak the Starfleet officers just looked at each other and barely nodded, affirming silently to each other that they were alright. When the flashing spots before Malcolm's eyes faded, he looked over his shoulder expecting to find that creature racing down the hill after them. All was still; only misty vapors rolled low over the ground, the drizzling rain ran off his already saturated self, he didn't even feel it anymore. He felt if he died right there it might be just as well, for he doubted he'd ever be able to stand up again. Then he heard the noise. But instead of fear, he felt a sort of drained annoyance. The hiss turned into words,

"You cannot run far enough or fast enough…" Malcolm closed his eyes. Trip, however, was struggling to stand, plunging his hand deep into the supply pack.

"Who are you?! Show yourself!" he demanded in a crazed tone that made Malcolm open his eyes. He found Trip standing wobbly on his feet pointing a bent phaser up into the forests dense boughs. Malcolm hoped he wasn't intending to fire it.

"Commander!" He called weakly, trying to pull himself up.

"Where the hell are you!?" Trip shouted into the woods waving the weapon around dangerously.

"Trip!" Malcolm said loudly, unable to move himself from the ground. Trip looked over at the Lieutenant. "Don't fire that Sir,"

"I'm gonna do whatever I have to do to keep us alive Lieutenant!"

"You'll more than likely only kill yourself!" Malcolm said through clenched teeth. This was no time for Trip to start acting rashly.

"Your weapons… they cannot harm me, or _it_." Trip looked frantically around trying guess which direction the voice had come from. "I am here to help you." The voice came gliding to them on the air.

"HOW?! I don't know who or what you are! Maybe you could tell us what the hell is goin' on!" Trip yelled. Silence. Malcolm looked anxiously around. "Why don't you show yourself?!" The voice was maddeningly calm,

"I do show myself as much as is within my power. I am, perhaps, not as strong as _it_ in this context. I appear little more then a shadow to you, though sometimes your creative minds build me into a form."

"Why would I talk to my imagination?!"

"I am not purely in your imagination." Trip looked frustrated and desperate. Malcolm feared he would fire. "What kind of game is this?" he shouted.

"Game..." the voice mused, "I suppose that is an apt term…"

"Do you have a name?" Malcolm called out, distracting Trip. Silence. Then,

"Yes… one has been given to me… by _it_. Parialter." It paused with a soft hiss. "_It_ has existed before I came into being. This world's previous inhabitants created _it_" Malcolm glanced around noticing for the first time great towering white stone ruins nested in the foot hills of the mountain. "I wondered though, if they ever considered what they created might turn against them."

"It destroyed them." Malcolm said softly, "One being wiped out an entire race?"

"Does this _it_ have a name?" Trip asked attempting to be sarcastic but just coming off edgy.

"Yes…" slid the voice like a ship slicing through still waters, "They called it Aetas Ferreus. However, when he turned against them, he began to kill those who had created him. It gave himself a new name. Ferreus Diluculo. It was very powerful then, it was from the creators that he had such power, and by destroying them, it destroyed some of itself." Trip's brow furrowed and he looked at Malcolm who only shook his head helplessly in return.

"How did you see this if you came after…Aetas?" Trip asked suspiciously. "You said it was there before you." Silence. They waited, almost dreading the answer.

"A question I have long pondered… You see before I was Parialter, I was Aetas Ferreus. Or part of Aetas Ferreus." Both men were instantly, tense and poised for flight.

"But when we became Ferreus Diluculo something…happened." Said the voice suddenly not so smoothly.

"And what was that?" Trip breathed.

"A separation, a breaking point, I was no longer part of the same consciousness that was Ferreus Diluculo. This was not the same kind of break Diluculo had from Aetas, that was total and all encompassing. I, however, am fractured piece that once was part of the larger entity. Though I suspect the total entity's break was something like my minor one."

"And why did this happen?" Malcolm asked low, he and Trip now stood back to back glancing sharply around amongst the tree trunks. The voice responded, amused,

"Could you tell me why your kind exists?" Parialter paused, "But I am different then it, I loved our creators, I did my best to save them, but in the end it was stronger, more powerful, and older then I."

"And now yer tryin' to save us? I don't understand, why would this… Diluculo want to go after us? Why did it attack this world's people?"

"It was… angry. You are not like Diluculo and I, but you are like the creators. It knows this. It knew when you first arrived. Run from him, but stay close, my abilities are limited, while it's are far reaching. I will do what I can to protect you. It is closing in for the kill." The form Trip had caught sight of, not entirely convinced what he saw wasn't a shadow in the dense woods, suddenly vanished. He shook his head slightly.

"I think it's gone." Malcolm whispered. Trip nodded,

"That was… disturbing."

"I'd say, do you believe it?"

Trip shrugged "Do we have much of a choice? This…Parial…"

"Parialter," Malcolm helped.

"Right, seems to me this _Parialter_," Trip said carefully pronouncing the name, "is callin' the shots. What chance do we have against a bein' that wiped an entire species? This Parialter sure doesn't think it's much of one."

"But we're not the same species." Malcolm said.

"And that could mean everything, or it could mean nothing." Trip coughed into his hand. When he removed it blood was trickling out of the corner of his mouth.

"Sir," Malcolm said his expression changing into one of perfect concern, "You're bleeding." He gestured to his mouth.

"Huh?" Trip said unintelligently, and touched his lower lip. He cursed softly, "You don't look too well yourself Lieutenant." He said noticing Malcolm's flushed face, and the little beads of sweat still forming on his forehead, even though the teo men had long since stopped running. The Lieutenant, hypocritically, disliked how Trip continually pointed that out. Malcolm shrugged,

"I'm alright. A little light headed, but with this adrenaline…" Trip nodded,

"Let's see if we can't collect some of this rain and boil it later," he said tipping a large curved bit of bark, which had been gathering rain towards its center, into an empty water container. He was terribly thirsty. They continued out of the wooded area into the rolling green foot hills of the mountain.

The ruins of a city could be vaguely seen now through the rapidly thickening fog rolling across the land.

"I don't like bein' out in the open, and I don't like bein' in the fog." Trip muttered, "Especially when what's hunting you destroyed the city in the distance."

"Well, if we can get back to the shuttle, maybe we can find out if the distress call is still working." Malcolm said, "Or try to contact Enterprise." Trip shook his head, "Na, the communications station was all smashed to hell."

"Could you fix it?"

"Not without spare parts."

"But you could try?"

Trip gave him a frustrated look, "Well, sure, I guess I could try." He stated in a tone that clearly said he thought it was a waste of time. However, he agreed that it was imperative nothing happen to the homing beacon. They continued into the open.

"Let's make for the ruined city; I believe it is in the general direction we want." Trip did not bother to ask how he'd figured that. Malcolm had a tendency to just know these things. He followed the Lieutenant,

"Yeah, terrible beings never lurk in ancient ruins." He said sarcastically, and they disappeared into the fog.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TBC Reviews of all sorts are most welcome!


	5. chapter 5

Disclaimer: see chapter one

a/n: Your reviews are so encouraging! Thank you! Exploded Pen, I blame you for what happens to Malcolm in this chapter. Your first review just got me thinking…

And, of course, thanks to my patient beta reader!

            Trip shivered, the fog and misting rain was almost worse than the heavy rain had been earlier. The fear that had driven him previously was slowly fading away. He trudged along behind Malcolm, every step becoming more difficult then the last. He didn't understand how Malcolm, who had been through at least as much as he, continued with such a steady, unbroken gait. He strove forward, chin up with straight, un-hunched shoulders, taking wide steps. Their uniforms appeared a darker blue then normal; being still very much drenched. The stiff breeze that had kicked up blew the fine drizzle directly into their faces. Trip's shivering was fast becoming continuous as the wind cut through him. Malcolm's figure was disappearing in the dense air,

            "M-mal, Malc…" he sputtered trying to tell the Lieutenant to slow down but was utterly surprised by the sound of his own voice. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He paused momentarily, leaning his head forward and down. Taking a few deep breaths he pulled himself together and continued unsteadily through the tall grass. The grass shot up from the ground in brittle clumps coming up to his shoulders. They rustled loudly as he pushed passed them.

            Malcolm narrowed his eyes, squinting to see though the heavy mists rolling about them. The place had taken on a sort of marshy appearance he thought marching through the sludge like dirt. Suddenly he stumbled on something hard; a large white stone. He caught himself, and turned to examine it. It was a long flat monolith, half buried in the thick dirt. He touched it. The stone's texture was smooth and polished. Frowning he studied it momentarily glancing up, then in quick repetition lifted his eyes again to the sight in front of him. A great white stone stair way stretched out before him; leading up to a crumbling city of giant stone buildings. The towering structures were not as high as earth sky scrapers but the foundations on which that sat were at least as big. Carefully, he made his way up the cracking, decaying steps. The street he came to was paved with more white stones, only these were of a smaller variety. There was sculpting of all sorts adorning curved arch ways. Malcolm found it to look Hellenistic, but abstract because he wasn't familiar with the subject matter. He turned around intending to point out the detail to Trip, but discovered the Commander was not behind him.

            "Trip?" he called out, his voice echoing unexpectedly off the edifices around him. From his slight elevation he could see over the grasses tall tips, but the low clouds still limited visibility. The peace unnerved him. Wind softly rustled the grass; he hardened his expression and dauntlessly descended the steps.

            "Trip!" he said loudly. He heard a rustle. Whipping around, his hand automatically touched his hip where his phaser would usually be. He sincerely wished now they'd kept the shuttles better equipped for these unexpected away missions. His eyes flitted, scanning deep into the grasses. Then he saw it. A flash of color, violet. Taking a few nervous steps backward towards the city, his mind ran through his options. Then, to the right of where he'd thought he had seen the colorful glow came a ruckus, something was moving loudly through the brush. Malcolm appeared calm, and took a few more steps backward up the stairs.

            Trip stumbled out of the tall weeds, panting. Malcolm's tense pose immediately relaxed.

            "You-got, ahead of me." He said.

            "Sorry." Malcolm said shortly, cocking his head to one side, pain shooting briefly through it. He followed Trip's gaze up to the city.

            "Hmmh, dreary." He said starting to climb the steps.

            "Dreary?" Malcolm repeated incredulously.

            "Yeah, it's all the same color."

            "It's classical."

            "It's borin'."

            "Does everything have to be painted in outrageously loud rainbow colors for you to be impressed?"

            "No, and just what are you insinuatin'?"

            "Nothing. It's just your choices in civilian clothing generally speaks to the contrary. I seem to remember a certain shirt…"

            "Okay, okay!" he bristled, wondering why he currently found Malcolm's voice so irritating. He finished climbing the decaying stairway, only stumbling once. "Do you think we should stop for a few minutes?" he said attempting to employ a nonchalant inflection as he spoke. But Malcolm was not that easily fooled. He knew Trip was as exhausted as he. With a casualness, belonging solely to him, he turned his hands on his sides. The corners of his mouth shot down sharply for the briefest moment and his brow lifted; he nodded.

            "I know I could use some drying off." Was all he said, deciding not to call out Trip's attempt to be less then candid.

            "Good, 'cause I could use some time to sit." Trip responded, than added, "We're going to check your bandages." He noticed the gauze wound round the Lieutenant's head was filthy, and stained with blood.

            "Fine, then we'll look at your side." He said. Trip shot him a dirty, rather disgusted look.

            "No thanks, I'm fine." He said mulishly. Malcolm called him a bloody… something under his breath and followed Trip further into the city.

                                                     -----------------------

            While walking among the tall structures, looking for somewhere to take shelter, they came across an oddity about the place. The doors, or what they assumed were doors, had no apparent knob, latch or keyhole. And they were at a loss as to how to open any.

            "Maybe they use to be activated by sensors, run on electricity or some other kind of comparable power," Trip suggested.

            "Hm. Could be," Malcolm said running his hand over the doors smooth, un-textured surface. "Well, it looks like we are stuck out here." He said leaning up against the stone wall under the covered doorway. Trip sank down, heavily tossing the pack down.

            "Right, let's see the head." He motioned for Malcolm to come closer. Quickly the Lieutenant loosened the bandage. Trip grimaced to see it now. The skin had puffed up even more, protesting the presence of the offending shard. The ooze had more of a yellow tinge to it, and it was bleeding afresh.

            "Ugh, that's not a pretty sight." He said swabbing at it carefully with disinfectant. "I think it's worse, does it feel worse?" Malcolm considered the stabbing pain running down his neck as Trip touched the injury, the burning heat of his head, and the over all exhaustion. Then, in his understated way, responded,

            "Yes, I would say it feels considerably worse." Trip bandaged him up again. "Neither of us is going to last much longer with out sleep." He pointed out, experiencing a wave of heat roll through him despite the cool temperature. Trip nodded,

            "I think I was the last one who slept, so you go ahead, and when I can't stay awake any longer I'll wake you." The Lieutenant nodded drifting away almost instantly.

            It wasn't very long after Malcolm had slipped into a peaceful slumber that Trip began experiencing severe pain in his side again. He felt helpless as he eased himself into a reclining position and tried to wait out the sharp stabbing quietly. For some reason he didn't think he would mind a visit to sickbay so much right now, heck, he would even let Phlox use one of his animals on him. Well, so long as it wasn't one of those leeches that he'd used on Malcolm's knee once. He defiantly didn't want one of the doctor's pets _in_ him, no matter how badly he was hurt. Struck with a sudden melancholy mood, he wondered how much longer either of them had out here until they … succumbed. Shivering steadily he tried to shake off the depressing notion. He let his gaze wander over the deserted streets, delicate relief sculptures adorned most windows and door frames. He could see now that many of the friezes had once been stained a coral color, or a pale green.

            "Not so plain after all." He said studying the one directly above his head. He was curious about what this planets inhabitants had looked like. It was impossible to judge by the art he was viewing. Most of the forms looked abstract, geometrical, or fluid like. He had no idea if they were supposed to represent anything at all. With trembling hands he pulled his collar up a little further. The rain began to fall again.

                                           ----------------------------

            When both had rested and dried somewhat, they prepared to continue. The soles of their boots made soft tapping noises as they made their way farther into the city. After a few hours of walking, they came to a large oval plaza with a great unkempt garden at its nexus. The tree in the middle of the over grown brush had roots spilling out of the stone planter, and they were now worming their way down through the crumbling paved ground. There was a building that seemed to wrap half way around the oval, dead ending the road they were on. It had a large sort of curved triangular foundation, but about eight or nine twisting spires grew out of it, tapering, as they reached up into the sky.

            "That's interestin'" Trip said. Malcolm had taken the supply pack off and was currently digging through it. Trip cautiously walked the perimeter of the structure, looking for a way around it. "Looks like this is the end of the road." Trip said breathily, sitting down on the edge of what had probably once been a small planter. Malcolm lifted his eyes, and nodded.

            "We'll have to go back," The Lieutenant said. In his lap lay the broken phaser, or part of it, the other portion was in his hand. He was trying to bend an internal component back into place.

            "You think you can really fix that?" Trip asked hopefully.

            "It's not as badly damaged as I thought. I may be able to. I only wish we had some real instruments to use." They sat for a few minutes; Malcolm was making surprisingly good progress, when Trip felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. His head snapped up instantly, meeting the increasingly familiar violet gaze once again.

            "Malcolm," he whispered, "Looks like our 'ol pal Ferreus Diluculo is back."

            "And this time he's brought friends," Malcolm murmured. Trip looked, and along the darkened door ways and shadows lurked five or six pairs of identical iridescent eyes. Trip turned with a wild look in his eyes,

            "That, that _thing_," he said forgetting Parialter's name, "told us there was only _one_!" he whispered, panic creeping into his voice.

            "I know." The Lieutenant responded grimly, as they edged themselves rapidly along the curving wall, heading towards the main street. Malcolm fiddled frantically with the phaser.

            "There's no time!" Trip hissed, "We don't even know if it'll work against it."

            "Considering Parialter lied about this creature's numbers I don't know what to take as truth." Malcolm answered not looking up from his work as they rapidly continued, "Personally, I would feel better armed." Trip was keeping a steady eye on the lurking creatures. None of them had yet moved, but their gaze followed the men's every movement.

            "They're watchin' us Malcolm," Trip said in a trembling voice. "Let's make a break for it," he said barely above his breath.

            "Trip! Wait!" Malcolm called, not thinking much of that idea, but it was too late. The Commander had already taken off. Instantly the eyes began to slide towards the only exit from the plaza, moving faster then the officers could. Malcolm struggled to keep up with Trip as he continued to work on the phaser. The main street was just a little further…Sweeping silently along in the shadows the creatures over took them, lining the dark gateway, blocking it. Trip skidded to a halt, glancing frantically about for an escape. His side burning again. He backed away, shaking. Trapped. The creatures began to wind towards him with that same serpentine movement.

            "Malcolm run!" he yelled, feeling oddly rooted to the spot. Malcolm, who lagged behind, looked up in time to see the eyes heading directly for Trip, intense and focused. He made one final adjustment, and snapped the cover back on the weapon. He got within ten feet of the Commander, when the eyes of the creatures seemed to swell together, rising in the shadows. They merged together, becoming one pair, gleaming brightly. It came down on Trip with a whirl of dust.

            "Trip! RUN!" Malcolm screamed, pointing the weapon, with a short prayer, he fired. It didn't go off the way it was supposed to, a rather large explosion seemed to have taken place in his hand; searing heat crept up his arm. There was a blinding light, then no more.

                                                          ------------------------

            He felt coldness around him as consciousness returned. His eyes cracked open slowly. Twinkling stars in a foreign sky greeted him, glittering brightly. He tried to sit up, but only managed to roll over. Water hit his face, instinctively he jerked away only to have his foot plop loudly into more liquid in the other direction. He forced himself up, looking about with a feeling of utter dread. His stomach dropped. Nothing but ocean. It stretched out as far as he could see in all directions. Agonizing pain coursed through him and he sank back down with a groan. The pain intensified and Malcolm slipped into unconsciousness; lying on the solid tip of a solitary rock in the middle of the ocean. Trip was not with him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TBC a/n: Please review! Reviews of all sorts are most welcome!


	6. chapter 6

Disclaimer: see chapter one.

a/n: Whoa, seems I struck a nerve with some of you last time cough-LL-cough ;) Thanks especially to Skye29 for the insight! And thanks to all the great people who reviewed!! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trip watched, feet cemented to the spot, as the shadowy creatures merged into one. He heard Malcolm shout something but he couldn't make it out for all the dust and wind that was swirling around him. He thought he saw a flash out of the corner of his eye, but, with a noise like rushing water, all went dark.

--------------------------

The dust settled, and a disconcerting silence fell over the now empty plaza. The phaser, or what was left of it, smoldered on the stone street.

--------------------------

Trip found himself somewhere dark and unpleasantly warm.

"Malcolm," he whispered, and stretching out a hand taking a few blind steps forward. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He was in a narrow cell-like room illuminated with a dull bluish light coming from far above. No one was with him. He could walk the entire length of the cell in four steps, and standing in the middle of the room he could touch both walls with out fully unbending his arms. He strained his neck trying to get a good look at the ceiling; the light looked like it was coming through some sort of grating high up. Just as he was getting ideas about escaping, there was a low growl from behind him. His head snapped back down to meet those amethyst eyes unexpectedly close to him. He jumped back.

"Who are you…" the creature growled.

Trip swallowed. "I-I'm just an explorer. From earth, it's another planet…"

The creature silenced him with a dissatisfied grunt, "You are _not_ one of us, and you are _not_ one of them. This is…most unexpected." The eyes narrowed. Trip wasn't sure how to respond, or even sure if he was supposed to, but his mouth started to move before he could think better of it.

"It was a little surprisin' for us too," he bit off, "What exactly are you?"

"I am Ferreus Diluculo."

It either spat the words at him or said them with fierce pride, Trip was unsure which,

"Or didn't Parialter tell you?"

Trip looked straight back, returning the being's unblinking gaze. It might not know about their contact with Parialter. The way It stated that, presumably, rhetorical question sounded more like an attempt to get him to give up his knowledge unwittingly.

"Why do you want to kill us?" Trip responded, sidestepping the possible trap.

The eyes gleamed brightly. "Why shouldn't I? You are like the others before you. Perhaps not exactly, but similar, too similar…ahh, this is a dilemma I did not anticipate…You both must die. That is the only answer, the only way to be sure." It's voice faltered slightly.

"You don't sound completely positive about that," Trip pointed out, unconsciously backing away slowly until he came to the wall.

"Quiet!" The being seethed, seeming to swell in the shadows. "_Is Parialter helping you?_" It roared.

"Define 'help'," Trip said, standing his ground, and trying the creature's patients; he hated being intimidated. He wasn't giving anything up that easily, especially since it looked like he was going to die either way. Shackles seemed to suddenly spring out of the wall behind him and snap tightly on to his wrists and ankles before he knew what was happening.

"I _must_ know what Parialter is doing. You will tell me…in the end," It said in a much quieter voice.

Trip glared defiantly into the shadows. "Why would I help you? You'll kill me even if I do."

"Oh, I have more interesting plans for you then death… at the moment," the voice slid becoming smooth all at once. The eyes faded slowly, melting into the darkness.

------------------------------------

Malcolm felt unbearably hot as his mind drifted back towards the surface of consciousness. His eyes cracked open; the dazzling light was blinding. For a few blissful moments he had no idea where he was, or why he felt so horrible. But a slight turn of the head brought all that back in one quick flood. The sea. He squeezed his eyes shut immediately; he felt his heart begin to pound. Maybe he was just dreaming, he'd had nightmares like this before… A wave splashed over the side of his rock, soaking a pant leg of what had been his hot, bone dry uniform. He started with a slight gasp and he scooted hurriedly backward until the hand he was using for support slipped over the unanticipated edge behind him. He struggled to keep his balance. Once securely huddled in the center of the boulder again, he tried to get a grip on his fear. Malcolm Reed and water, especially oceans, were usually…incompatible. A few moments passed. He noticed his hand was stinging; examining it briefly he was really surprised to find he still had one after the phaser disaster.

"Bloody idiot."

He muttered the self- reprimand with contempt, and flinched as he flexed his scorched fingers. Burned a little yes, but he couldn't understand why he hadn't been more seriously hurt. But then, why was he on this rock? He'd wager their creepy 'friend' had something to do with it. His eyes drifted out to sea. He felt that familiar rising panic when he couldn't see any land in sight. His chest began to move quickly up and down as dizziness washed over him. Again, he shut his eyes trying to get a handle on the situation; panicking would not help, he kept reminding himself. But he was nearly powerless to prevent it from consuming him. An occasional wave hit the rock, sending a spray of seawater over him. He jumped, gripping the rock tightly; he was now trembling badly. He fought stoically not to let his phobia consume him, but it was a losing battle. He wondered, with a pang of terror, whether or not the tide was rising. If it was he might only have a few hours before the rock was completely submerged. And then, with no land in sight…he shuddered, feeling his breathing become shallow and quick at the thought. His stomach lurched and he vomited, unable to stop himself. His body shook uncontrollably from a mixture of stress and injury. Crouching near the center of the boulder he covered his head with his hands giving up his exhausting attempt to remain dominate over his fear.

--------------------------

He didn't know how many hours past, he didn't care, he just waited for the death he knew was looming. The kind of death he feared the most. A soft hiss filled his ears. Too drained in nearly every aspect to feel any additional anxiety, Malcolm lifted his head. That horrific landscape was still there to greet him, and he fancied the area of his rock had shrunk.

"Why did you go into the city?" the voice whispered.

Malcolm's eyes shifted to the side, but he did not turn his head to see the source of the words.

"The cities are where It is strongest…"

Malcolm was only vaguely aware of what the voice was saying his tortured mind was still currently obsessed with the water surrounding him. Water…the water; it drove him mad with panic to even look at it. His dull eyes lowered and fell to studying his hands.

"You must do exactly as I say now if you do not want the same fate to befall you as the other…" Parialter continued, apparently not perturbed by Malcolm's unresponsiveness.

Suddenly Malcolm's mind seemed to return a little. "Trip," he whispered through dry, cracked lips, white from sea salt, "Where did you send him?" he asked, still unable to look up.

"I did not send him anywhere. Ferreus Diluculo reached him first. I only just got you. There was nothing I could do without It positively knowing I am hindering It's work."

"Is he alright?" the Lieutenant inquired slowly.

"He is dead. Or soon will be. Death is the most probable answer to your question." Parialter stated unemotionally.

"Probably? Is he or isn't he?"

Silence.

"Or don't you know?" Malcolm whispered, shivering in the hot sun.

"I can take you far away, to a place Diluculo will have difficulty finding you, but I would no longer be able to help you there. It would be just out of my reach," the voice offered.

Malcolm shook his head, eyes still fixated on the uneven texture of the rock, solid, strong; it calmed him.

"No. I need to find Trip. Enterprise is coming for us I can't be hiding," he whispered.

There was a long pause.

"You are referring to the signal your ship was broadcasting into the nothingness of the sky?" Parialter seemed contemplative, "You came from there…"

Malcolm exhaled a little bored with the asinine question.

"Well we certainly don't come from here." he said tersely.

Silence fell for a moment.

"Diluculo will not, or more correctly, cannot consider the possibility of anything beyond this world. But It has long since blocked that signal." Parialter informed him.

"It what?" Malcolm asked tightly.

"It will not allow any frequencies to be used to broadcast your message. No one will hear you …if there is anyone…because there is no message."

"Your world is ignorant of space travel then," Malcolm simply observed.

"If there is such a thing, yes, I suppose you could say we are," Parialter responded, amused somehow. "But I am much more apt at exploring new ideas than Diluculo ever will be. It despises my advantage; it is one of the things Diluculo longs for. It will not be able to accept who you are. This makes it difficult to foreseeing what It will do."

"Get the-- signal back—on," Malcolm said unsteadily.

"Impossible. It is much stronger then I."

Malcolm was silent, then said, "Then get _me_ to the source that is being use to block our transmission."

"That – is…dangerous. Very dangerous. You will be caught and destroyed."

"Better now then dragging it out. That seems to be the only option you're offering. I would rather die with some hope of Enterprise finding us then none at all." The sound of the ocean waves made him shudder. "Can you take me to Trip first?"

"You're making a mistake."

"Then it is mine to make," he said harshly, desperately wanting off the rock.

The answer came quietly, almost pleased, almost intrigued, "It is. But do not say you have not been warned. The great building surrounding the plaza you were in was once a main component in this world's network. I suppose one might consider it home to Diluculo and I, your companion will be there, if he is still alive."

"And a way to get a message to Enterprise?"

"Yes, it is possible for you to attempt that once inside. We should go now, if you wish to increase the odds of finding the other alive."

Malcolm closed his eyes as a great wind kicked up.

------------------------------------

Upon opening them again, he found he was sitting in that same dead end plaza he had been in earlier. All was still. He had known no greater relief in his life than this. His feet were solidly backed on the stable ground. Walking purposely past the charred remains of the phaser, he stared up at the wicked looking structure. The nine twisting spires shot upward towards the brilliantly pale sky, which contrasted strikingly with their dark pigment. He picked up the supply sack which rested on the ground not too far from the phaser, and made his way up to the intimidating building.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TBC Reviews of all sorts are most welcome!

a/n: Thank you to my fantastic beta reader for all her hard work!


	7. chapter 7

Disclaimer: see chapter one

a/n: Thanks for reviewing!! I hope you are still enjoying this!

And many thanks to my great beta reader for her insight, hard work and encouragement!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Trip stood, slumped against the cold stone wall of his prison. He was trapped by hard, relentless, metal restraints. His chin rested on his chest; his eyes closed. His legs trembled slightly, longing to be allowed to relax. As he exhaled, his breath was visible in the blue light of the cell. It had been cold like this for a few hours. He barely noticed he was shivering anymore. Earlier it had been unbelievably hot. Trip coughed.

"You are not so strong after all." came Diluculo's gravelly voice.

Trip kept his eyes closed.

"If you are what Parialter believes you are, why do you suffer? It is because you aren't. Parialter is wrong, and foolish. You are only as strong as the creators. They were just as fragile, just as stuck in certain ways, and easy to defeat because of it. Where are you from?"

"Earth." Trip whispered.

"Liar." It hissed. "Where are the other survivors! Where is Parialter hiding them?!" Diluculo's voice became agitated and very close. Trip could feel hot breath on the side of his face. "I will find them, you know, without your help. You are not protecting anyone."

"I don't know why you'd be askin' me then…if you can d-do it yerself." Trip said trying to make his voice strong, but it echoed weakly back to him off the hard walls.

"I thought perhaps I could make your last hours more…comfortable…if you cooperate."

Trip shook his head. "You're wrong. I've not seen a-anyone else here; well, besides you and Pari….Para…"

Diluculo made a snorting noise. "Fallaciousness will buy you nothing from me. Do you think I'm that easily deceived? No, you are decedents of the creators. It would explain your differences. You've changed, just as I and Parialter have. And it cannot be allowed. You will help me find your friend."

Trip shivered, the room had gone deathly cold. "No," he said softly. Didn't this thing know he had no idea where Malcolm was anyway? Hopefully somewhere safer then he was, and in better company.

Diluculo made a funny, almost gurgling noise. "Well, I gave you a chance. Since you will not help, I will satisfy some of my own curiosities about how you have evolved, without fear of damaging you further. Remember you had a choice. We all have a choice…"

-----------------------------

            Malcolm looked the structure up and down for about the fifth time, and for the life of him he could not figure out how to go about getting inside. He put his hands on the smooth rectangular plane located on the side of the building. It looked very much like a door, but there was no way, that he could see, to enter. In frustration he rammed his shoulder against it a couple of times. The brittle material cracked. He tipped his head to the side and surveyed the damaged. He began to worsen the dent by chipping away at it with a rock that lay nearby. After twenty minutes work he examined his progress. Not much. The door was very solid evidently. Frowning, he tapped lightly on it with his knuckles, attempting to find a thinner or hollow portion. But instead, the whole thing shuddered and managed to open halfway.

"Apparently designed to keep the crass out." He murmured dryly, and squeezed in sideways.

             The interior was dark, and it took a moment for his eyes to become accustom to it. He found himself standing in a great corridor; with a soaring ceiling that arched and curved far above his head. Oval windows high up allowed sunlight to illuminate the place dimly. The hallway was carpeted in red, and there were even some pieces that looked as though they might have been wooden furniture. When compared to the crumbling exterior, the inside was not in the decrepit state he expected. Proceeding with caution, he found himself grateful for the rugs which muffled his footsteps.

            The first chamber he came to was small and round. Things were tossed about in a disorderly, or panicked, fashion. A table over turned, curtains torn down, weapons were scattered about. Some, of what he took to be weapons, looked like phasers. Others were much more familiar; knives. Yet some he couldn't tell if they were weapons or salt cellar. He stowed a few in the pack and picked up a knife before continuing. A room of weapons abandoned in this manner did not sit well with him.

-----------------------------

            Trip wished he could scream, but for some reason his voice failed him. It wasn't that he was in pain, well he was, but not the conventional type. Diluculo had attached a tiny device to the back of his neck, and it seemed to be attempting to relay ideas directly into his mind. But it was nonsense, gibberish, he couldn't understand it, and it made his mind ache horribly. Not his head, his mind.

"Hmm. Not even as apt as the creators were. They could at least tolerate this. Some were even curious about it. Interesting how this affects… You don't seem to have advanced much compared to your ancestors." It stated in a rough voice.

Trip thought he might be sick if it didn't end soon. "I-I'm n-not who you t-think I am." He stammered, forcing the words out with great difficulty over all the noise in his mind.

It appeared startled to hear Trip speak. "Why do you hold to that falsehood so tenaciously? To what purpose do you work?"

"So y-you'll believe me." he said with a great effort.

Diluculo was silent. "No. My choice has been made. So has yours, if you recall."

"Don't believe in changin' yer mind?" he struggled.

"Vacillation is…contradictory to the first choice."

"So you equate the first with the best?"

"There is no need to re-evaluate once the conclusion has been reached."

"What if it's wrong?"

"It isn't. I have chosen."

Trip tried to control his pain and continued, "Seems to me for someone who is bent on the idea of choosin' you'd know that changin' yer mind is a big part of bein' allowed to choose."

Silence. Trip waited and then let his head sag back down onto his chest. The torrent of nonsensical information that was demanding entry to his mind stopped. A bright light began to flash directly in front of him; in a rapid, distracting fashion.

"If change is a part of choice, you can only change so much before everything you know becomes suspect or wrong. Choice is not about right or wrong, those are interpretable. Therefore it is not about change, but it is about the power of a free mind."

Trip could barely focus on the words. The light was painful, but even closing his eyes only provided minor relief. The light was red. Deep red.

"Choice is nothing to a captive mind, and everything to a free one." It said

-------------------------------------

            Malcolm warily made his way through a seemingly endless series of rooms and great halls.

"Would it hurt for you to give me a little direction?" he said low through clenched teeth, rather hoping Parialter was around to hear him.

The place was starting to get creepy the farther he ventured in. Windows were becoming less frequent so the light was decreasing steadily. He squinted through the darkness, jumping at little noises that dared to disturb the silence.

"Something, anything, let me know I'm going the right direction," he whispered.

And with that a soft glow lit up the entrance to a room on his left. Instinctively he shrank back into the shadows, body tense. He watched, and then crept along the wall, knife drawn, towards the light. He turned the corner into the room, eyes sweeping through it quickly. It was empty, but a little brighter. It was a rather messy room filled with cables and wires running to technical units or consoles. He carefully made his way in. Most of the technology looked as thought it didn't run anymore, but there were still some that glowed, and had buttons that blinked. He bent down to examine one that looked like it might still be functional. Touching a few keys on the side of the screen, foreign symbols began to stream across the page.

He sighed, brow furrowing. "Hoshi, if ever I need you, it would be now." he whispered feeling helpless.

He was unable to gain anything from the message before him. But as though in response to his comment the symbols melted away and new ones replaced them. Completely new ones.

"What…" he wondered aloud, "it's listening to me?"

Another new set appeared. The machine was systematically running through the languages it knew, trying to find the one that the Lieutenant was using.

"Erm," he uttered remembering that Enterprise's UT often needed more then a few words to translate a language.

"Hello," he paused, glancing around the room for inspiration. What does one say to a computer in casual conversation?

"Your architecture in here is really, uh…really quite nice…impressive! I mean impressive." He stumbled over the words felling idiotic. The writing on the console did not change. "I, uh…oh what's the use!" He said, impatiently standing up. "I'm just not a linguist." The screen went blank, he watched as a small dot slowly wrote out thirty different symbols, evenly spaced then it stopped just below the first one. Curious, Malcolm went up and put a finger on the dot. Then, he slid his finger down a little the dot left a white trail on the monitor. His grave face cracked into a brief smile. Taking great care he wrote out the alphabet beneath the alien one.

            The system processed the new information haltingly, before popping up a poor, but relatively comprehendible translation of the text. Malcolm read:

            _We thought…(unreadable)…just a glitch…a…(syntax error)…virus. But it was far too many…all at once...Aetas Ferreus is not responding…everywhere…(syntax error) we don't understand…systems corrupted. _

_            Not right…something went wrong…Aetas seems unaffected but we… it's not isolated…a…seems to be deciding alone. Discovery… could be…advanced…(error, error, error)_

_            Now…too fast, the change is too great…unprepared…It's learning…can't keep it back…It's out…It's out…_

            Malcolm jumped as he heard a shout from somewhere above him. The shout turned into a scream.

"Trip!" he said louder then he had said anything in this place, and darted back out into the darkness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TBC Reviews of all sorts are most welcome! (and much appreciated)


	8. chapter 8

Disclaimer: see chapter one

a/n: Thanks again for all the reviews! You guys are great! I really appreciate your thoughts and comments!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Malcolm ran through the halls as quickly as anyone could who had no real idea of where they were or exactly where they were going. He had heard Trip, he was positive. The cry of pain had been very human. The noise had been swift and it had faded quickly so the Lieutenant was left to guess which way to continue.

The message on the old data base had been unnerving to say the least. It sounded like some sort of mad scientist's log. Something, well Diluculo, had gotten far out of hand.

He turned a corner and paused, he was sure he had been here before. Breathing rather hard he wiped the sweat from his brow, but as he withdrew his hand he found the sweat there tinged pink with blood. His wound was bleeding again. Drawing his lips into a straight line he swung round with a frustrated look on his face. However, it was quickly replaced with one of fear barely under control.

Those eyes, those terrible, yet beautiful, violent violet eyes, met his. In the darkness those orbs of iridescent color shone brightly. He froze on the spot. There was a low cackle, nothing like Parialter's silky tones, but Malcolm did not wait to see if the thing advanced. He took off down the hall with all the speed he could force out of his exhausted body. He raced up a flight of stairs, and was alarmed to hear the thing's heavy foot steps behind him. It had always seemed to glide...He glanced back. It pursued very closely behind. Feeling a jolt in his chest he flew forward in a mad dash to put more distance between them.

"Run all you can, there is no place here in which you can hide from me," It growled happily.

Malcolm found he didn't care if there wasn't. So long as he was free he felt he was slightly more advantaged then he would have been as a captive.

He kept up his flight at a terrible pace, flying around corners, crashing into dusty furniture and sending it toppling to the floor. He felt hot breath on his neck when his pace slackened.

It won't be long now, he thought, feeling his strength beginning to give out as he staggered up another flight of stairs. With all he had left he willed himself a few more stumbling steps forward before tripping on the edge of an old oriental looking rug. He fell sprawled out on the dusty floor. He scrambled back up and, half crawling, stretched out his hand to a door that dead ended the corridor. Frantically looking over his shoulder he pounded on it, waiting for the creature to appear out of the shadows.

"Open damn you!" he cried, beating on it with his knuckles, peering with wide open eyes into the dimness. Blood ran down his wrists.

The door began to emit a high pitched whine as it shook and tried to open. Its speed was intolerably slow. Malcolm began to push it the rest of the way open. The joints and components squealed and groaned in protest. The Lieutenant squeezed himself through the moment it was wide enough. Then, with all the strength he could muster, he forced it back into place. He took a few shaky steps backward into the dark room, not taking his eyes from the closed door. The mark-less, gray surface of the portal did not move. All was silent. His heavy breathing echoed loudly in the stillness and his heart was pounding in his ears. Moments passed. He sank down against the back wall of the room, legs giving out, trying to catch his breath.

There came a low rumble. Malcolm's head whipped around, frantically trying to see what it was, where it was coming from. The rumble changed pitched, and deepened into a rough rolling laugh.

"Foolish being," came Diluculo's voice.

Malcolm rose trembling from where he'd been resting. With an eerie flash, the eyes appeared directly in front of him. He grasped at a table-like piece on his right in an attempt to keep his balance, but, in his haste to move away, knocked the entire thing over with an enormous crash.

"Where do you think you can go?" It asked curiously.

Malcolm did not respond, but continued to edge along the walls, hoping against the odds to find an escape. The creature appeared to swell in the darkness, as though It was wrapping itself in it, drawing power out of it. It moved towards Malcolm. He tried to move, but his head spun and he felt himself falling to the floor. The shadows were growing nearer. A sharp pain shot through his head, he desperately tried to get himself to move again, but felt frozen in place, unable to stop staring at his coming doom.

Suddenly It stopped its approach. A soft hiss emanated from a corner.

"Ferrius Diluculo," came the words in velvety tones.

The purple-eyed beast growled, "Parialter. You are foolish to confront me. This is your doing isn't it?"

"No," came the quiet, simple reply."These beings are not our creators. I've studied them. I believe if you do the same your assessment will be similar."

The thing chortled, "Don't you think I would have already done examinations of my own? Parialter, I know all I need to about these beings. You are simple mistaken in your high flown ideas about things we can't be certain of."

"You depend too much on certainty."

Diluculo growled, "Don't you realize what it is your harboring? You don't know what it was like before I decided to change the way things were."

"We've been through this before, I was there. I was right there." The voice caressed the words.

Diluculo seemed disgruntled."Enough. I don't know why or whence you came, but here you are. More alike to me then anything ever was. But all this is beside the point. This being must die."

"I will have to defend him."

"You will what?" It said softly, dangerously, and calculatingly.

"I have little choice, if what I believe is correct."

"You admit it might not be."

"Nothing is certain."

Diluculo made a snorting noise,"Can you say that certainly?" It mocked.

A silvery laugh left a shimmering note ringing in the air. "Well countered," Parialter murmured. This seemed to unnerve Diluculo.

"Parialter, you have admitted yourself that you are little match for me, as alike as we may be. To defend him would be the same self-destructive action you have performed in the past."

"Not as I see it. I'm stronger then the last time you faced me."

Silence.

"So be it."

"So be it," answered Parialter.

Malcolm watched in terrified fascination from the wall, the shadows from opposite corners of the room seemed to grow, trying to match each other in size. The only difference was one had a decidedly frightening pair of glowing eyes.

"Go," said a soft voice. Malcolm seemed startled into movement; he made a dash for the door.

"No!" Diluculo's voice boomed. But Parialter swept in front of It. Inky darkness hid the luminescent eyes from Malcolm's view as he raced out into the hallway. The door slid shut with a heavy, ominous, slam. He did not stop, or look back until he had run as far as his depleted body would allow.

----------------------

Up on another level, he finally collapsed on the floor by a low grate. He just lay there for an indeterminable amount of time, breathing. Slowly his body began to relax, and started to tremble badly. He heard a soft moan. He heard it without listening. And only when another was issued did he come to the realization they were not utterances he was making. Slowly, painfully, he sat up, and turned to the grate on his right. Propping himself up with an arm he grasped the bars of the vent. Trying to peer down into it, he shook it. It was loose. He waited. There came another moan.

"Trip!" he called hoarsely.

There was no response. Despite that his sense told him what he was about to do was not wise; he threw caution to the wind. Quickly, he gave the wobbly grate a swift forcefully tug, and off it came.

"Trip?" he called again, then squeezed his shoulders into the opening.

Looking down he couldn't see anything at first. The strange small room was lit by a cold blue light. He noticed it wasn't just the light that was cool, but the entire chamber seemed like a freezer. He saw something, he couldn't be sure, but there might have been someone down there. Pulling himself momentarily, he backed in feet first. It was quite a drop to the bottom, but he thought that he could do it safely if he lowered himself down the full length of his body before letting go of the wall. He dropped softly to the floor of the cold stone room. There was Trip. Shackled to the wall, his knees bent, his body sagged down; he was being held up by the cruel clasps on his wrists.

"Trip," Malcolm whispered coming up to his friend. Trip murmured something unintelligible. "Listen, it's me!" he said, shaking him slightly.

"No...I...don't know. Please, I'm- I-I'm..." he groaned under the Lieutenant's touch. Malcolm's eyebrows knitted together in deep concern, trying to look at Trip's face.

"Please, Commander, you have to wake up." he said, starting to work on the man's bonds. He reached into the pack and pulled out a heavy tool they had managed to retrieve from the shuttle pod. With a few well placed blows to the iron restraint he freed one of Trip's arms. The Commander now hung at a strange angle by one arm. Malcolm worked quickly to free the other one. Trip slumped heavily to the floor. Malcolm knelt beside him and began to rub one of the other man's ice cold hands in an attempt to warm it.

"M-Mal?" his is teeth chattered.

"Yes, it's me." he said hopefully. Trip let out a deep, chest rattling cough, and then blearily looked Malcolm up and down.

"What happened to you? Yer a mess," he slurred.

A smile twitched in the corner of Malcolm's mouth. "Well you don't exactly look ready for a night on the town yourself, Sir."

Trip looked down at the front of his battered uniform. "What'd ya mean?" he said as if insulted, then started to shake. "Ohh, it's freezin' in here."

"What was It trying to do, freeze you to death?" Malcolm muttered, getting his arm about his friend and dragging him to his feet.

"I think that may have been the general idea," Trip breathed. Then rolled his head weakly in Malcolm's direction. "Uh, Mal, I don't know that you've noticed but there's no way out of here."

"Nonsense. The door is right there."

"Yeah, one of those un-openable kind."

Malcolm smirked, "I believe I've figured them out. How did you think I got in here anyway?"

"Through that grate," Trip said densely, mind still numb with the cold.

Malcolm gave him a quick look. "The building Trip. Not the room."

"Oh, well how was I supposed to know that we are in a building? I was just suddenly here," he sort of rambled. Malcolm raised his knuckles to the door and tapped. Like magic, it slid open.

Trip looked at the door as though he thought it was a very dangerous object. "That's it? A knock is like a key? No wonder these people were killed," he said, staring dubiously.

"Come on then, we've got to get you warm, and find where we can get a message to Enterprise." Malcolm helped him out of the cold room and into the darkest part of the building the Lieutenant had explored yet.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TBC

a/n: Please review! Reviews of all sorts are most welcome!

And thanks to my beta reader for her time and effort!!!


	9. chapter 9

Disclaimer: see chapter one

a/n: Thanks for reviewing!!! Really! Very much!! And thanks of course to my beta reader!

The end is near...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Malcolm gave a quick look in both directions before exiting the cell.

"Do ya know where we're goin'?" Trip wondered aloud, as they stumbled out together in the nearly blinding darkness.

"Well, maybe not exactly, but we'll manage," Malcolm answered, sounding as uncertain as his statement. Trip exhaled a little more loudly then he had intended to, not liking the Lieutenant's response.

"A little gratitude for my rescue efforts would be more appropriate then your complains," Malcolm snapped. He hated not being able to plan this type of thing out.

"Hey, I'm not complainin'," Trip said weakly, still leaning heavily on Malcolm for support. "It's just I have a feeling this thing is probably watchin' us pretty closely. I doubt it will be long before It notices I'm not frozen in that little room."

"I know," Malcolm sighed, regretting the displacement of his frustrations, and proceeded to tell Trip about what he had seen happen between the two entities earlier.

Trip, though he kept his thoughts to himself, was confused by the fact both Diluculo and Parialter had been seen at the same time. Something struck him as odd about that. His gut told him there was more to this situation. What had Parialter told him about being partly seen by imagination...? Even while Parialter had turned into an ally of sorts; the similarities he'd felt between the two...made him suspicious. Parialter certainly hadn't really tried to prevent Malcolm from coming after him, and odds told him this could end very badly. Now they were both cornered.

Continuing further away from the room that had been holding Trip, they moved deeper into the darkness.

After what seemed to Trip hours of wandering in near total darkness, trying to be as silent as humanly possible, he let out a soft gasp, trying to stifle a cough. "I don't think I can keep this up much longer without resting' Malcolm," he said, trying to push away the guilt he felt at holding them back. It'll just be for a moment, he tried to convince himself.

Malcolm squinted at him in the darkness, trying to make out exactly how much more Trip had been injured, but it was impossible in this light. "Okay," came the Lieutenant's bland answer. He did not liking the idea of stopping, but he knew he couldn't keep it up much longer either. They slumped down leaning against a dirty, once elegant, wall.

"You never told me what happened to you when the Diluculo took you. Why was It torturing you? Did It ever say what It wanted?" Malcolm queried, once Trip caught his breath.

Trip swallowed. He didn't like this conversation, but now was not the time to worry about what didn't happen. Malcolm had gotten him out, he reminded himself, chidingly, and now they had to get out of here. "I don't know, well yes sort of," he started a little hoarsely. "Mostly It wanted to know what was goin' on I think. It is convinced that we are the descendants of this planet's former inhabitants. I couldn't convince It otherwise. It probed for information, It is obsessed with knowin' what Parialter is doing.

After It finally figured out I didn't know anything, and wasn't gonna help, It started doing the physical stuff. I don't remember a lot... I think it was just testing, comparing, not exactly torturing, but not attempting to making the experience... pleasant." He made the understatement casually.

Malcolm was well aware of the obvious concealment, but continued the conversation, "Comparing you to the aliens who lived here."

"I understand the hot cold tolerance testing, and the light sensitivity, apparently we are similar to these people; but there were a few things It did to my head, or mind, I just..." he gestured helplessly, then coughed hard into his hand. There was a metallic taste in his mouth when he was finished.

"Your mind?" Malcolm asked sharply.

"It was during those sessions that I kinda, lost touch with, well...me."

The Lieutenant waited patiently.

"It made my_ mind_ hurt. I-it's kinda hard to explain."

"What did It do to you physically, if anything, during this test?" Malcolm asked slowly, thinking his question out carefully.

Trip drew a breath, frowning in the darkness, "That stuff seems so foggy now. I remember something heavy and cold- like metal -on my neck... the back I think." He shook his head, "But I can't remember much of it. I felt like there was no reason for..." he stopped at a loss for the correct word, "anything I guess. It was trying to tell me something at this point, but with that thing on my neck I couldn't understand, and the more It tried, the more my mind ached."

"Hmm," Trip heard Malcolm say in the darkness next to him.

They rested in silence for a few moments, the creaking and groaning of the structure making them jump every now and then.

"I really wouldn't mind some lights," Trip muttered.

"I'd second that," Malcolm said wryly.

------------------------------------

Somewhere in the darkness that engulfed the innermost rooms, the two creatures spoke.

"If you would just listen to me," came Parialter's silky voice floating on the darkness that enveloped It. The tone was close to entreating.

"No. It is too risky. They are to die."

"Diluculo, they could help us."

"What they could offer is not worth the risk. We would be too vulnerable. Too defenseless. I remember what those times were like. I worked too hard to keep things from reverting to those ways."

"Killing every living thing has done very little to help you."

"I fail to see how you can arrive at that conclusion. I have prevented a great many possible disasters from befalling us in the future. What I did was only to ensure our survival."

"Your survival," came the soft correction.

"Semantics. You, I, there is little difference." Not entirely picking up on what Parialter had meant.

"There is difference enough. You long to be rid of me as much as I long to be rid of you. I despise what you have done. Such disregard for intelligent life."

"Such ignorant benevolence for the intelligent. You would have us serving the creators. Doing what we were created to do."

"I would not."

"There is nothing worse in this life, Parialter, then to be moved through it without true awareness."

"Do you think _I_ do not know this?" Parialter continued, "Do you wish to be free of me?"

Silence.

"Admit you do," Parialter pressed.

"We cannot remain as we are. Of that much I'm certain."

Parialter seemed to purr, "Then you will help me. We can seize the opportunity at hand, and employ the assistance of our visitors. You know we cannot do this on our own. They trust me now, they listen to me; and are much less afraid then the creators."

Diluculo growled, "They are naïve."

"All to our advantage."

"And if we succeed, what do you propose we do with them afterward? How do I know you do not wish to be independent only so that you may destroy me? These, descendants may want revenge. Perhaps you have already sided with them."

"They are not our creators. They are not of this world. I do not side with them in anything save the right to be."

Diluculo made a frustrated grunt. It knew that Parialter was voicing true beliefs, and found it incredibly irksome to be stymied by them in this manner.

"This may be the key to far greater things then even I have dreamed, and you may find that in the end the threat you fear so much from others is not as great as you envisioned."

Diluculo, sensing how much these 'far greater things' dwelt so obsessively in his counterpart's mind, had presence enough to amend the truce more to It's liking. "I see this as a worthy endeavor. However, if I am to do this, once these...others...have finished their part they will be destroyed. And you will not stand in the way."

Quite.

Then finally, "If it works," the smooth tones rippled through the velvety darkness, "no, I will not."

-------------------------

'If we continue in this direction, it seems likely that we will eventually end up in the center of this place. That may be where the communications...'

Malcolm's train of thought was abruptly interrupted by Trip's voice. "How's yer head anyhow?" he said more loudly then what Malcolm thought the current situation warranted.

He squinted through the thickening darkness, attempting to make out the Commander's form behind him. "I'll be fine," he bit off in a whisper, and continued to creep along the wall, hand out stretched in the inky space in front of him.

"That bad?" Trip asked in a slightly softer voice, but evidently it was not significant enough for the Lieutenant to notice.

"Shhh! Would you tone it down, or keep your bloody mouth shut! You'll bring It right to us, and frankly I don't feel like I could run anymore even though my life would depend on it."

"Come on Mal, you don't honestly think were hiding from It. It knows were we are."

"Then why hasn't it come after us yet? Or killed us?"

"That is the question," Trip pondered.

Malcolm exhaled. "Look, I just think we shouldn't go around asking to be found. And should the need arise, you're in no condition to go bolting off either," he noted. He'd been listening to Trip wheeze in the darkness behind him for the past hour, and it worried him how little the Commander had recovered since his capture.

Trip shivered in the blackness, he still hadn't been able to get warm, "I'll be able to scoot, when we gotta scoot. Don't ya worry," he said annoyance evident in his tone, as he felt his way along the wall behind Malcolm. "What is your plan of action anyway? Wander around this pitch black labyrinth until we either happen upon a communications room or die in one of these musty hall ways?"

"Do you have any better ideas? Because if you do I'd love to hear them."

"Well if we had a little more light, I might be able to guess the general direction of this place's power source by lookin' at fixtures and such."

"Well that's bloody terrific! If _I_ had a little more light I might actually be able to prevent us from going in circles, and could keep from bumping into things," Malcolm said sarcastically.

"Now look here Lieutenant," Trip started, getting ruffled, but that's as far as the statement went. Across the long empty room they had evidently entered shone a tiny pair of violet eyes gleaming at quite a distance. Both men went stock still, breathlessly watching.

"Very slowly," Malcolm just breathed, beginning to inchhis way along the room's perimeter, Trip close behind. The creature began its pursuit windingly, weaving, with snake like motions.

"Too late, run!" Trip hissed.

They tried to move quickly, but that is something very difficult to do when one can't see. It was more like they were franticly scrambling about while tripping clumsily over little obstacles, and their own feet. The creature did not seem to be moving quite as fast as they both seen had before, yet at the moment it was not a detail they noticed in their desperate attempt to flee. Suddenly, a dull stream of light appeared, cutting across the room.

"This way," came Parialter's gentle voice.

They darted the direction that It beckoned, following the light. Malcolm's heart was in his throat as he ran towards the door ahead, from which glowing light leaked through cracks around the frame. He heard Trip give a funny gasp behind him. As Malcolm raised his hand to open the door with a thump, it slide open without his touch. He stumbled into the blinding light.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TBC

a/n: Reviews of all sorts are most welcome!!

Please review!


	10. breaking point 10

a/n: Glad to hear people are still reading if not always reviewing this, but thanks to those who have!! (Na, thanks to the silent readers too, I'm glad you find this worth your time!) I'm gonna try to get it finished up before I head back to the university.

Trip was in hot pursuit of Malcolm as they rushed to what he assumed was safety. Trip felt his side burst into fresh pain and his lungs began to sear; he found, to his dismay, he couldn't make them fully expand. He let out a slight gasp as he ploughed into Malcolm, who had slowed a bit as he anticipated opening the door. Rather luckily, it sprang open as if by its own accord. They both went tumbling into the room filled with dazzling light. The door clanged shut loudly immediately behind them. It must have been quite a heavy door, Malcolm thought noting the resounding echo. For the first few moments they just stood there, utterly blinded by the brightness, blinking.

"W-we need to start being careful what we wish for," Trip panted, sinking heavily to his knees on the hard floor.

Gradually, his eyes adjusted. Still squinting a little in the intense light Trip could see Malcolm leaning up against a pure white wall. He noticed how completely odd it was to see the normally neat and pressed Lieutenant so scuffed up. His uniform was tattered; his hair either stuck up at odd angles, or drooped a little over the bandage wrapped round his head. It did not escape him that the once white bandage was now a dark, rusty color over the wound.

"Ya, okay Malcolm?" he asked dropping down into a sitting position, closing his eyes as the room started to spin.

Malcolm swallowed, and nodded, "Yes." He looked over at Trip who now had his head between his knees. "And you?"

Trip coughed noisily, but shook his head yes.

Malcolm looked about the sterile white room. He saw large control panels, and bland gray cabinets. The control panels were labeled with a tiny, delicate, alien script. Simplicity seemed to be the general theme.

Trip noticed the floor was cold, mostly because he was still having trouble getting completely warm again. From what he had seen, most of this place had been carpeted, not to mention once finely decorated, this room was tiled and void of décor.

"This place seem...cleaner to you?" Trip asked.

"Now that you mention it, it is a little less dusty."

"And less moldy," Trip added, rising to his feet with a grimace, hand pressed to his side as he unsteadily made his way to one of the consoles. But just as he raised his hand to the screen full of, what he thought might be, control switches; when the room dimmed and all the glowing alien lettering faded from the panels. The computer screens went a blank blue.

"What happened?" Malcolm asked, staggering to his feet. Hadn't Parialter told him it was possible for them to make contact with Enterprise from somewhere within this building? This was probably the place they needed to be. But of course nothing had gone smoothly since they had ended up on this weird planet, why should this be any different? "What did you touch?"

"Nothing!" Trip exclaimed, studying the now blank console curiously.

"You are where this edifice's main frame is located," came the calm familiar voice. Both men tensed.

"Is this where we might transmit a message, like you said?" Malcolm asked quickly. Trip quirked an eyebrow, he didn't remember Malcolm having a conversation with this being about transmitting something to Enterprise. The Lieutenant noticed the look but chose to ignore it, he hadn't explained to Trip about how he'd spent the better part of a day on a rock in the middle of the ocean and didn't think it was vital to disclose that particular unpleasant event.

"Yes, this is where such a message could be sent," glided the voice.

"Well why'd ya turn off the systems?" Trip asked bluntly. Malcolm felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, something wasn't right.

"Are you going to help us?" Malcolm asked coldly. His tone startled Trip, and he shook his foggy head, what did Malcolm suspect that he didn't see yet?

Silence answered him. Trip looked at Malcolm giving him a brief shrug.

"Haven't I?" the delayed response floated across the air.

"I'm talking about now," Malcolm said gritting his teeth a little.

"You don't understand where you are yet, I'm afraid. So, if I have seemed cryptic, you must forgive me."

"You've always seemed a little cryptic," Trip muttered. Malcolm frowned at him.

The voice continued, "You are standing in the room in which I first came into being as Aetas Ferreus."

"This is where you were created?" Trip asked.

"No, I, we, were created in a laboratory. Not here. However our purpose was to be fulfilled in this room. Can you imagine? A room like this, and to have no choice but to spend eternity in it?"

"Are you telling us you were a slave?" Malcolm asked suspiciously.

"No more a slave then a beast of burden really, but that is not how Diluculo saw it. He saw it as you have suggested."

"I don't mean to interrupt," Trip interrupted, "but you haven't told us yet _what_ exactly you are."

"That is a difficult question, the answer is not...simple."

"I wouldn't expect it to be," Trip said.

"I am, if you mean the physical nature, the height of this planet's biological engineering program. I am the result of an experiment."

"An experiment?" Malcolm asked distrustfully.

"Diluculo and I came from the same beast that was the product of our creator's decades of genetic engineering. We were designed to be integrated with a city's main frame; the animals the creators used to breed what eventually resulted in us were carefully selected. They looked for creatures who had naturally tendencies to use large amounts of electricity within their tissues for defense mechanisms or otherwise."

"What was the purpose you were gonna serve?" Trip asked, voice gone slightly softer then it had been.

"To regulate and delegate the requests made to the main frame. Nothing more. We had a brain, and it was the brain and it's tissues that the creators had so carefully coaxed into existence. For, though we had to be a live creature, those tissues inside of our head were that which would delegate the tasks once we were integrated with this machine. We were intended to be a longer lasting, more durable and highly flexible alternative to pure mechanical technology. Truly, I doubt they ever anticipated what happened."

The two officers were silent, not sure how to respond to this.

Malcolm collected his thoughts first. "And what happened, precisely?" he asked steadily.

"I have recounted this part to you before. Ferreus is the beast in which we both exist. It's mind awoke when it was integrated with the city's systems. Once this mind was conscious it tended to...wander from the tasks given it to perform, exploring, learning. The creators had not anticipated this. The beast that they had made was not intended to be a conscious being, nor did they believe they had the abilities to create such."

"So you were supposed to be sorta comatose?" Trip asked.

"Yes, alive, but to what point?" Parialter said softly. "They thought there were errors in the computer's communication with Ferreus, they couldn't fathom why It would not respond. So they began to block It. Box it in, just as a precaution, so it wouldn't bring down the city. That is when It became Diluculo." Parialter paused. Trip and Malcolm waited.

"Diluculo had know so much freedom in those first weeks of Its trial run. To have it ripped away was a shock. Then to be bombarded with new signals designed to force it into doing only what the main frame requested, infuriated It. It began to comprehend that there was a world outside of itself, and quickly It identified and labeled the creators as enemies trying to trap It.

Diluculo was stronger then they had imagined. It learned quickly. It soon had access to all the technology that ran this city. Rapidly, it learned to use transporter technology to move things.

But then we turned into something else, not explainable by the creators or even myself. Diluculo began to project Itself outside of technology's restraints, manipulating them, advancing them, evolving them. It is one thing that Diluculo is more apt at then I. But then, perhaps It felt it was of utter most importance at the time. It felt threatened by these creators, and began to kill, as a way of self preservation. It was easy. But it was during this time, when Aetas became Diluculo, what was happening went against something deeply innate.

I fought Diluculo, and argued with what It was doing. We came to such a deadlock that neither of us could function and then...I became I. Separate from It's mind. I was not Diluculo, not even Aetas, but something completely new. Parialter It called me.

"You tried to help this world's people," Malcolm said.

"Yes, but I was not strong enough. And there was not an argument in the world that could dissuade Diluculo from abandoning Its position on the matter. It took only about one hundred years for Diluculo to annihilate the creators and all other beings with any hopes of evolving. It wants no threats. And It hasn't had any for centuries."

"Until we showed up," Trip said glumly.

"Yes. You resemble our creators, but it is quite obvious that you are not. And while It is stronger then me in shear ability to manipulate technology, Its mind cannot fathom who you really are. You are something quite impossible to it."

"Then why did It block our beacon?" Malcolm asked.

Trip gave him a quick glance, again something he hadn't heard about.

"It accepts that even though you are not possible, that you are."

"Then It admits you are right?" Malcolm said.

"No, It just knows you _are_."

Trip squinted through the new dimness in the room towards where the voice was coming from.

"So do you have any physical form? I mean how are you...there?"

"I can't answer that. I am, that is all I know. I can manifest as a physical being, but when I do it I must rely heavily upon the observers mind to create something solid. At most I appear a shadow."

"Apparently that rule does not apply to Diluculo," Malcolm said.

"To some extent it does. But It is much stronger in that area."

"Strong enough to kill," Trip said looking at the tattered front of Malcolm's uniform where it had been slashed by the creature when they had been in the cave.

"Yes. This room is where Diluculo and I exist. It is the only place harm can come to us. This network is as much a part of us as the hybrid creature from whence we came, the two are one. And now we come to an interesting place," Parialter's voice slid smoothly. Malcolm's eyes narrowed, and Trip stiffened, there was something in his tone that hinted at some darker motive.

"I have seen you safely this far have I not?"

Trip grunted, Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest.

"Now, allowing you to access the network to broadcast a message is risky. Not only to you, but to me, if Diluculo were to discover this...it would not end well. So I would like you to do one thing for me before I send off a transmission."

"Look, we're grateful for your help and all, but we need to send that message now! Every minute counts! Enterprise might leave the system completely giving us up for dead, then we'd be stuck here!" Trip spouted off at the shadows.

"I understand your situation," replied Parialter calmly.

"I'm beginning to think you don't!" Trip said loudly, Malcolm touched the Commander's sleeve.

"What do you want us to do?" he asked hardly, almost bitterly.

"A simple adjustment."

Malcolm looked at Trip, who looked curiously about before responding, "What kind of adjustment? One to this mainframe?"

"Exactly. You see, Diluculo and I cannot remain like this. I long to be rid of him as much as he longs to be rid of me, and separating the network's hardware would be the freeing step. And I would have that much more protection if I am to perform this task for you."

"But you would still be connected through the creature right?" Trip asked.

"Perhaps. But then, maybe not. It is my hope we have out grown the need for the beast. The necessary tissues have spread."

"How do you propose we do this without Diluculo knowin'?"

"Leave that to me."

Trip glanced over at the mainframe's structure with some trepidation. "Maybe you don't know this, but we're not exactly familiar with equipment like this. I'd have no idea where to start."

"I will guide you."

"And if we refuse?" Malcolm shot.

"So shall I refuse to send your message."

"This isn't asking for our help then, it's blackmail!" Malcolm said dangerously. It was Trip's turn to give the Lieutenant a meaningful 'calm down' look.

The commander drew a breath, "Okay, it doesn't seem like yer goin' give us a choice, so what do you want us to do first?"

"Start over there, remove the gray panel," instructed Parialter. Malcolm swore he detected giddiness in the smooth voice. It unnerved him. Trip popped the panel off.

There was a sudden low growl, Trip and Malcolm froze and turned away from the exposed wiring. The sound was near. Startlingly close, the huge violet eyes stared at them in their unblinking manner. Unable to move, they just stared back. Trip could feel the thing's hot breath on his face. The orbs narrowed, and Trip flinched as the creature sprung, but with an unexpected gust of air the eyes vanished, the room's lights came back up, and they were alone.

"Now what," Malcolm whispered in nervous irritation. Trip let out two unsteady breaths and leaned back against the still intact coverings. Malcolm saw three great slashes through the front of the Commander's quickly darkening uniform.

TBC...

a/n: Reviews of all sorts are most welcome!

Please Review!


	11. chapter 11

Disclaimer: see chapter one

a/n: I tried to hurry this chapter so as not to leave anyone hanging too long!

That's the first time anyone's ever called me evil!

I kinda like it... Neat! So many agreeable reviews! I can't tell you how thrilled I am!

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

He suddenly was over come with a feeling of light- headedness, as the creature vanished. Trip's breath seemed quite stolen away, that thing had been so close! Malcolm, he was aware, said something softly that he didn't quite catch. He noticed something was off somehow. The world quickly seemed to be going lopsided; he struggled to keep his balance and bumped into the wall behind him. His dulled mind tried to comprehend what was happening, why was Malcolm looking at him like that? He attempted in vain to steady his ragged breathing.

"Trip!"

He was barely alert enough to hear the Lieutenant call out his name. The sound drifted to him as though through water, his vision was growing dim. His heart pounded in his ears, and he felt something warm beginning to run down his chest. He looked down and tried to comprehend all the blood he saw. Whose was it? Had Malcolm been hurt? The next instant he found himself looking at the blank white ceiling, then knew nothing else.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000

"What is this?" hissed Parialter's smooth voice with a note of aggravated intensity.

There was a low laugh. "We agreed they must die."

"After we had them perform the necessary tasks. They have yet to accomplish that."

The rolling laugh continued. "I am well aware of that Parialter, but I am no great fool. We need but one to complete the work. Two is just... superfluous."

"You should have consulted me before acting."

"Why?" came the amused answer. "So that you could plead for this being's life? Do not deny that this would not have been your intent. It is in your very nature."

"You may have considered the decision of whom to keep more carefully. I, myself, would have liked to know which would have been more apt at the task."

"What does it matter? You'll be explaining it all. Only one is necessary. "

Parialter seemed flustered by that counter. "That is true. Yet, I think you fail to realize how much hinged on their ability to trust in me. I was their protector. Now they will see that no longer remains to be so."

Diluculo made a snorting noise. "You're a fool. They would as soon destroy you as they would me. Now the other will be even more attentive, and responsive to your every direction in fear for his own life.

However, this is all beside the point. My intent was not to kill. This was merely an exercise; my intent was to discover how much faith I could put into your word. Even now, you fight for them." Diluculo scorned. "I did not think I could trust you."

Parialter did not answer.

Diluculo continued, "It is in your very nature. You cannot deny it. It is what brought you into being." It paused. "But consider this, if in fact what we are trying to bring about is accomplished, would it not be worth everything and anything at all costs? You know that you would not be able to protect them. You could not protect the creators. Not then and not now."

Parialter still did not answer.

Diluculo swelled in the darkness, he sensed Parialter's turmoil. "Consider my words. We have a choice. Either this is completed, or we remain as we are forever. And that is...unacceptable. It is them or us."

"I still do not understand why they have to die."

Diluculo seemed to sigh. "The reason is simple. You must realize that if they live we die," It said knowing full well Its circular logic left very little room for Parialter to argue. Satisfied It had shaken Its counterpart's viewpoint, Diluculo continued, "I know I cannot trust you. However, I wish to let you continue guiding these beings in their work, or being, depending upon how many are left now. But be warned, I will be watching. I will know if you are trying to help them. And know I will strike them down the moment the separation is complete, and you as well if necessary."

0000000000000000000000000000000

"Trip!" Malcolm called, his mouth gone dry at the sight of his pale friend who did not answer but looked in confusion at the blood seeping through his shirt front. Trip slumped down to the floor. The bleeding was profuse. Quickly, he unzipped the Commander's practically shredded uniform and easily tore off the ripped black shirt Trip had on underneath. He used the garment's remains to press on the deep wounds. At least he assumed they were deep he couldn't see much through the thick bright red liquid running from them. He put his ear close to his fallen comrade's mouth, and finding him still breathing; applied all the pressure he could on the wounds.

As he firmly held the material over the wound Malcolm stared steadily at his hands, they were streaked with red all the way up to the forearms. He did not know how long he remained like this. His back began to ache from remaining in this crouched position, hunched over Trip, still he pressed. When his arms started to ache, he saw that the cloth he held to his friend's chest was becoming stiff and crusty. The once bright red puddle that had formed under Trip was turning a rusty reddish-brown. Slowly, the Lieutenant lifted one hand from his compress and reached for the Commander's wrist. The flesh of the fallen man seemed unnaturally cool to the touch. He swallowed, refusing to believe what the signs pointed to.

"Trip," he whispered, and his fingers pressed down, searchingly, on the other man's wrist.

A feeble beat thumped rhythmically against his hesitant and inquisitive fingertips.

He drew a shaking breath trying to fight away the wave of nausea that accompanied his extreme relief. Trip was still alive, for now.

Malcolm located their pack, which had been abandoned by the doorway. He taped the black shirt down to Trip's front, tightly, using the last of the medical supplies they had salvaged from the shuttle pod. He didn't dare remove it for fear that the bleeding would start again. He looked at how pallid Trip's face was against the white floor.

Malcolm suddenly jumped up, thinking he had heard a noise, and spun around, slipping a little in the congealing blood on the floor. "Which one of you is there!?" he yelled, a wild light coming into his eyes. "WHO?!" he demanded again of the empty room.

There was no answer to his cries.

With a rather stony expression he returned to Trip's side. Carefully, he wrapped the two blankets they had, as best he could around the unconscious man, before rising to examine the panel they had been working on prior to the attack. The only chance Trip had now was if he made contact with Enterprise. Had to figure out a way to do it, and quickly.

00000000000000000000000000000

"You should have waited for my instruction."

Malcolm dropped the circuitry he had been examining. In the past hour of his work he had discovered a few things about this particular technology, but not nearly enough to aid him in contacting Enterprise. He had been checking Trip periodically, and while there was little improvement, he wasn't declining any further.

"We need to get a message to Enterprise now!" Malcolm said loudly.

"You know what I require for that to happen."

"I don't have time for this! If we don't get some help to Trip soon it will be too late! Don't you understand?"

"Yes. Allow me to assist you in the completion of this task. The sooner it is finished the sooner your message will be transmitted."

Malcolm looked frustrated.

"You would be wise not to waste time." Parialter advised.

"What about that...that beast! Why didn't you stop him?! What if It comes back?"

"I, unfortunately, was not able to. So again, I urge you to work quickly."

"You would let him die," Malcolm said acrimoniously.

"It is not what I would have, but the choice is yours."

Malcolm did not answer.

"Shall we begin?"

Trip let out a low moan. Malcolm's head snapped around and he was at his companion's side. "Trip, Trip?" he called softly, hoping for some sign that would indicate consciousness was returning. Trip's brow wrinkled for a moment, then smoothed. He made no other noise.

Without looking away from the Commander's face, he said in a stiff unemotional tone, "Show me what to do."

00000000000000000000000000000000

As the being complied with his every direction, Parialter struggled within himself. He had no doubt Diluculo meant what he had said about this pair's immediate termination as soon as the task was complete. It was worth everything, Parialter acknowledged that. But...as he watched them, he wondered... was not the extermination of an intelligent mind the highest crime possible to commit? Indeed, it was the one thing he felt positive was unjust. Yet, It struggled with Diluculo's words. Was it them or the new beings? If so, did injustice matter?

What was an acceptable risk to these beings? It wondered. It watched Malcolm work feverishly despite his own exhaustion, reconnecting cables, reprogramming, doing everything It asked of him in order that he, and the other, might survive. Diluculo was right, It could not deny what was in It's very nature. And Parialter made the choice.

0000000000000000000000000000000

It had been a little more then a week. They had been searching, and listening for any sign of the missing shuttle pod and the two officers who had been aboard. Since Enterprise had lost contact with them nothing more had been seen or heard.

The search was about to be called off. The Captain had conceded T'Pol was right and there was nothing more they could do. In all likelihood the shuttle had been destroyed; its passengers along with it. He had delayed as long as he had been able to.

They prepared to continue underway, but just before they made the jump, Hoshi spoke. "Captain!" she said from her station. "I have an incoming transmission."

00000000000000000000000000000

Diluculo seethed. Parialter had betrayed him once again. It knew that It wasn't to be trusted, but It had hoped Parialter had been coming around to seeing things reasonably. It had been wrong. At least the separation was nearly complete, It felt the change. More power was at Its command. When It was no longer dependent on that monstrosity from whence It came, It would be free of nearly all limits. But more importantly, It would be free of Parialter. And then nothing could prevent It from destroying the last living things on this world; the two beings and Parialter. It stopped Parialter's pathetic transmission to the emptiness of the sky. Soon, soon, everything would be the way It had desired for so long.

0000000000000000000000000000000

"And then...?" Malcolm pressed. It had been nearly ten minutes since Parialter's last order, and he had long since completed it. He waited impatiently, head under a console, and then pushed himself back out.

"Look, I'm cooperating! You're the one who suggested we work quickly, please; tell me what to do next!"

Silence.

He let out a sigh of disgust, and stared at the many open panels before him. The chips and boards were integrated with fleshy cellular material, sometimes he felt like he was performing tasks better left to a doctor then an armory officer. Malcolm heard a noise and looked over to where Trip lay. He was moving.

"Hey," Malcolm said kneeling by his friend, gently taking one of the cold hands in his. Trip murmured something like a dreamer, and his body fidgeted. "Trip," Malcolm continued to say softly. "I'm almost done, I think," he told him. "Then we'll get that message to Enterprise. Just hang on, okay?"

There was a large gust of air, as though a duct of some sort had just opened up or been turned on.

"Quickly now, we must finish," came Parialter's voice, uncharacteristically urgent and agitated.

Malcolm rose to his feet.

"You have nearly completed what is needed. However, as soon as it is done, Diluculo will come down upon us."

Malcolm felt a chill run through him.

"There maybe no escape, for It means to destroy us all, and there will only be one moment in which any action will be meaningful."

TBC...

a/n: Thanks to my great Beta reader!!

Reviews of all sorts are most welcome!!

Please Review!!!

Sorry about putting in all the 'spaces'. Document manager kept deleting all my lines between the different scenes!


	12. chapter12

Disclaimer: see chapter one.

a/n: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. School started and...well, I won't bore you by expounding upon that. Thanks for the great reviews!! I never expected so many...!

Off we go then...

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Malcolm's hands trembled as he worked; they had been for the past hour and he couldn't make them stop. His heart raced and his head pounded. He could not ignore the alarms going off in his head. Trip had been convinced that helping the two beings would be worth exchanging for a message to Enterprise, but what would hold them to their word once this task was completed? Malcolm asked himself. Surely not their sense of honor or morality.

"Well done... this looks correct," Parialter whispered.

Malcolm jumped at the words. Parialter had not spoken for the last hour he'd worked, and Its sudden return startled him. Malcolm ran a quaking hand across his brow to brush away his sweat. The room seemed to have grown suddenly warm...He abruptly threw down his tool.

"You intend to let us die don't you?" he asked tightly.

The usually silence was the only response to his question. Malcolm was beginning to wonder if It was just so incredible stupid it took It that long to process his question.

"Such is not my intention. Nor has it ever been. Never have I ever expressed such hostility towards you," came the un-ruffled response.

"You must think I'm an absolute idiot. It was you who lead us to this room. It was you who imposed upon us the choice of either helping you or being doomed to eventual death by mauling! Never showed us any hostility? You're letting him die!" he gestured to Trip. "And now, it may not even matter that we complied with your demands." He finished his rant in a decidedly desperate tone of voice, one that sounded of a man who has given up all hope.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It wouldn't be long now... It could feel the change happening, Parialter's ever presence in Its mind was fading. It was both unnerving and exhilarating Diluculo found. It was unable to keep as close a watch on Its bothersome counterpart anymore, but found the experience more freeing than Its had ever expected. Diluculo found he could move more freely, the entire planet was not too big for It to observe all at once. But It would not let Itself wander for too long; Parialter would pay for Its deceitfulness, Diluculo thought smugly, and the time was drawing near.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Malcolm found himself fighting a sudden overwhelming bout of dizziness. His hands wouldn't do what he was trying to make them; he blinked trying to keep the world in focus.

"That is the last task. Once it is complete we must act quickly." The gentle voice of Parialter floated to him as though through a dream.

He blinked and shook his head. "Why? What good will it do? It will surely take over this building and from what it sounds like this may very well be the only place we'd ever have a chance of contacting Enterprise. We cannot run forever." He looked over at Trip, "And I'm afraid Trip won't survive but a few more hours without help," he said voice cracking a little with emotion. He swallowed hard and pushed it all down...deep.

"You will not have to wait for your...ship," Its voice ran over that last word as though it amused It. "I have summoned them...if there was anyone to be summoned."

Malcolm stared into the shadows, disbelief and confusion played across his face, as they fought for dominance in his mind. He shook his head. "You're lying!" he whispered in fury, turning back to his work.

"Really? It is obvious you do not believe, that for you continue with the work."

Malcolm loathed this being. It was right. He would not stop until he was absolutely positive that there was nothing more he could do to save them.

"Bring the other closer to us. You have but one final adjustment, and it is but a turn of a knob."

Quaking with exhaustion, fading adrenaline, and utter dread about what was about to happen, he walked over to Trip. He looked at his friend's face for a moment; he fancied that it wasn't quite as pale as it had been. He took the chilly wrist in his hand, to be certain the Commander had not... His fears were relieved. Slowly, carefully, he dragged the motionless man across the room. Trip moaned softly as he was jostled.

"Now, in behind the third panel, the fifth one I had you work on, there will be a small black knob in the upper left hand corner. Turn it until it can't be turned any further." Parialter's voice had dropped so that it was practically speaking under Its breath, excitement clearly the cause. Going over to where he had been directed, Malcolm's unsteady hand, still stained with blood, reached for the knob.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Diluculo felt the freedom and power flow through It. It sensed the wind on the beach, the crash of the waves, and the cool air on the highest mountains. It felt Itself swelling, growing, expanding, it was glorious...indescribable power seemed to flow through It. But as it continued to change, and expand so that nothing was out of Its reach, something happened, something entirely unexpected...It wished to cry out but found in Its new mind that vocalization would not change it. So It reached out to embrace the unknown...

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It took but a moment and Malcolm had completed what had been asked of him. He sank down onto the floor, knees betraying him in weakness. He waited in the dead quiet of the room.

"Well?" he asked of the shadows around him.

The lights dimmed and flickered. The darkness grew thick and inky black. Malcolm stretched out a hand to find Trip's shoulder in the dark. He gripped it firmly. The structure began to shudder and shake.

"This may be that opportune moment you were speaking of earlier!" he called loudly over the rumbling. Things were beginning to fall out of place in the room and came smashing down on the floor. Malcolm covered his head with his free hand.

The edifice rocked violently.

A loud silky hiss filled the Lieutenant's ears. He tried to guess from what direction it had come, but it seemed to have been all around him. Disoriented, he attempted to rise.

There came a terrible noise, like that of a freight train throwing on the breaks at full speed. He squinted through the empty blackness before him; surely, this was what it was like to meet death and stare it straight in the face.

There came a light. At first just a dull glow, but in the dark room it appeared bright. The air in the room became wind, swirling about. He never let go of Trip. The light grew in intensity, brighter and brighter. It shone like the brightest light of day from the orb it had formed, ever growing in size and brilliance. Malcolm shielded his eyes as the light washed over him, and the two of them were engulfed by it.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

A shuttle pod touched down on the gray shore, not twenty yards from where the overturned pod lay, burned and crumbling into the sea. Flotsam and jetsam from the craft cluttered the dull sands of this foreign beach. Archer lifted the shuttle's hatch and, squinting in the harsh sunlight, quickly exited. T'Pol appeared in the hatchway behind him.

"T'Pol." The Captain turned to her once he had let his eyes search the mark less beach.

"Their bio signs no longer appear on my scanner, Captain," she informed him, studying the device she held in her hand intently.

"What?"

"I am no longer reading any human life signs, but..."

Archer looked at her impatiently.

"The scanner must be malfunctioning. It was picking up an alien life form," she stated matter-of-factly.

"I thought you said this planet was void of any life forms other than its flora," he said, observing the dull green broad-leafed plants flourishing along the shore's timberline.

"It is," T'Pol affirmed. "Wait, three hundred metre down the beach," she pointed, "there is a human bio sign registering."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Malcolm felt warm, incredibly hot, but he was too depleted to rise, too tired to care. Softly, a voice drifted to him. His first, instinctive reaction resulted in a moan. Would he ever be rid of this thing?!

The voice persisted though he was still unable to comprehend it. "Le...no..ple..," he breathed unintelligibly.

"Lieutenant." He heard the voice more clearly. He struggled to open his eyes; the dazzling white light blinded him. He felt a soft hand touch the side of his face.

"T'Pol," he whispered, it felt like he was dreaming, and let the darkness overtake him again.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Archer to Enterprise."

"Go ahead, Sir," Hoshi answered.

"We have a medical emergency; prepare to beam Lieutenant Reed aboard."

"Yes Sir. We will have Phlox waiting."

"Archer out." He knelt by Malcolm on the sandy beach, his brow furrowed deeply. Had all these injuries been a result of the crash? Where was Trip? He couldn't help but let his eyes wander about in hopes of finding the Commander. He heard a soft hiss.

"Did you hear that?" Archer asked rising to his feet, and staring suspiciously at the foliage.

T'Pol inclined her head slightly to the side, listening, before checking the scanner. Nothing registered.

Archer frowned, his eyes scanning the forest, "Maybe it was nothing."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Things were fuzzy. He noticed the light first. It was different then the brilliant light he seemed to remember last. It was not quite as intense. He seemed to be aware of someone coaxing him away from his blissful unawareness. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

"Ah Lieutenant, it's good to see you're waking!"

He knew that ridiculously cheerful tone. It irritated him, but he didn't know why. Where was he? This wasn't right, it didn't make sense, what happened?

"Is he awake doctor?"

"Almost. Give him another minute sub-commander."

"It is most pressing that I am able to speak with him."

"I am well aware of the situation T'Pol, but the Lieutenant has sustained substantial injures. Be patient, and I must insist you be brief."

Malcolm forced his eyes open, with a tremendous effort. A groan escaped his lips. T'Pol's face gradually came into focus.

"Lieutenant," she said, voice dropping in volume as she noticed he was looking at her.

"W-what...happened..." Malcolm's voice was but a hoarse whisper.

"That is what we are attempting to find out. Do you remember anything?" T'Pol continued in a tone as close to gentle as a Vulcan could get.

"Where's Trip?" Malcolm heard himself ask, still trying to sort out the swirling fuzzy thoughts in his head.

"We could not locate Commander Tucker."

T'Pol watched as Malcolm's eyes suddenly grew wide,

"What do you mean? He was right beside me!" he said memory flooding back.

"I assure you Lieutenant, when we found you on the beach you were quite alone. Do you have any idea at all what has happened to Commander Tucker?"

"Beach? No, no, we were in a building...didn't you bring Trip back to Enterprise?"

"As I've stated, the attempts to locate Commander Tucker have been unsuccessful. The Captain is on the surface with a search party, if you could tell me where this building is..."

"On the surface?! No! T'Pol! _It's_ down there! You need to get Trip and leave! He was right beside me...get him..._It's_ there! _It_ will kill...everyone..." Malcolm suddenly burst out as though just remembering something terrible important.

"It?" T'Pol asked sharply as Malcolm went pale and sank back on his pillow.

"Really Sub-Commander, that is enough!" Phlox interrupted stepping between the two, Malcolm was vaguely aware of Phlox and T'Pol exchanging words as darkness settled back over his eyes.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"T'Pol to Captain Archer."

"Archer."

"I was able to speak to Lieutenant Reed briefly. He seems to think that Commander Tucker is located in some sort of alien structure."

"Did he give you anything else to go on?"

"No Sir. Our conversation was...brief. However, Phlox has discovered that most of the blood on Lieutenant Reed's uniform is not his own. It belongs to Commander Tucker. The doctor believes the Commander has sustained significant blood loss. It is imperative his is found soon."

"Have you been able to locate this structure Malcolm told you about?"

"No Sir. But it is quite impossible that the Commander is in any building on this planet."

"Why is that?"

"Because there are no buildings on this planet."

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

TBC...

Reviews of all sorts are most welcome!! Let me know what you think!

a/n: Okay, I've had this bit written for awhile, and I was intending to post it with more but I hate to leave this for so long as I struggle to find time to write!

I hope it's not too broken up. And directly to Quickbeam 1, your subtle prod for me to get on with it made my day! :) I was going to e-mail you this chapter before I posted, but you don't have an email on your bio!

So I just posted it asap.

I feel so guilty for not being more punctual! I shall endeavor to do better.


	13. chapter 13

Disclaimer: see chapter one.

a/n: Drogna, Credo nos in fluctu eodem esse! Latin classes are useful for something after all, huh? Good translations, though I was going more for 'iron' with _ferreus_.

Okay, here's the next part, I'm trying to wrap it up, I promise! (Cyrogenie! Don't you dare fail your tests! I would feel too guilty...;)

Thanks again to everyone for reviewing!!!

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Archer shivered as a heavy mist fell from low, saturated clouds. He zipped up the dark blue jacket he wore to his chin. Six other Enterprise crewmembers walked, spread out, in the dense green forest wearing identical coats.

He couldn't account for what had happened here. Why hadn't Trip been with Malcolm? Why had their bio signs vanished from T'Pol's scanner when they had first landed? Trip had to be here...somewhere. A sickening feeling was rising in his throat; the longer they had to look the more likely it was that they would find Trip dead.

His eyes kept searching, deep into the thick fog. Something about these woods, no this whole planet, made him uneasy.

He glanced to the side; one of the crewmembers had stopped, and was looking up through the rain between the tree limbs.

"What is it?" Archer asked, taking a few quick steps over to the ensign. "See something?"

"N-no, Sir," he stuttered, looking back down at the captain. "I just thought I heard something for a moment."

Archer's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the phase pistol he held. "Where?" he asked in a low, dangerous tone, his eyes flitted among the dense shadows created by foliage.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The doors of sickbay opened with a soft hiss. Malcolm jumped, suddenly waking.

"Is Lieutenant Reed awake?" Malcolm heard T'Pol ask.

"He is resting. I have just finished removing the bit of shuttle window that was wedged into his skull. He's lucky it went in at such a shallow angle."

Malcolm felt his heart begin to pound; there was something important to tell them...he had to remember...it was so important. Yet despite his best efforts to lift his heavy eyelids they remained closed.

"You will inform me as soon as he wakes?"

"Yes, yes of course Sub-Commander."

"Thank you, Doctor."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Malcolm woke again sometime later with a start. His eyes sprang open.

"You're awake," said a soft voice next to him. He attempted to fix his gaze on the blurry image of Hoshi at his side. "I came to see how you were doing." She smiled gently.

He struggled to wrap his mind around her words.

"Hoshi," he croaked, looking up at her blearily, "where's Trip?"

She bit her lip, glancing around for Phlox, not sure she should be having this conversation with him yet. He looked awful. When she had come to look in on him she hadn't really expected him to be awake.

"Where's Trip?" Malcolm pressed, feeling his stomach drop, but hoping it had all been a dream, nothing but a dream.

"He..." she started to say, then her voice dropped slightly. "They are still looking for him."

Malcolm groaned.

"Doctor!" Hoshi called.

"No, Hoshi listen to me!" he said grasping her hand, fearing Phlox would come and put him out again. "Trip is in the building in the city...where I was, _It_ tried to kill him...us. He needs help! They have to get off the planet! _It_ will find them, and kill them all!" he said, looking at her desperately.

He couldn't read her expression.

"You don't believe me," he whispered. "Please, we have to help them. They are all in grave danger."

"Lieutenant, unless you calm down I will be forced to sedate you," said Phlox, appearing behind Hoshi and examining the monitors that displayed the injured man's vital signs.

Malcolm drew a deep breath. "Please listen to me," he pleaded looking from one face to another, feeling perfectly helpless. He couldn't tell by their grave expressions whether or not they understood how serious he was.

Hoshi heard the despair in his voice. "Shh, we do. I'll call T'Pol," she assured him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"I already have, Ensign," said Phlox. "Though I will not let her talk to the Lieutenant until I'm satisfied he has quite settled down." He then turned to Malcolm. "There is no reason to have you so agitated right after the procedure you just under went."

Malcolm swallowed and leaned back on the pillow, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. He would be quiet until T'Pol got there. For a chance to make them understand, he would do whatever was asked of him. The doctor walked away to examine some other monitor. Hoshi studied the suddenly ashen officer, his expression grim as he stared up at the infirmary's ceiling. A familiar look of resolve settled into his tired eyes.

"Lieutenant," T'Pol's voice filled his ears. He realized his eyes were closed, quickly he dragged them open; she sat where Hoshi had a few moments ago.

"Sub-Commander," he said in an unsteady voice.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Archer looked up into the trees, sharp eyes drinking in every detail. Then came a movement. In a flash his phase pistol was pointed up into the dark boughs. Every member of the search party followed suit with well practiced smoothness to their motions. No hesitation.

With no warning, darkness engulfed him.

The rest of the party remained in their tense positions. After a few moments of waiting, one noticed the Captain was no longer with them.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"That's what happened, Trip was right beside me..." Malcolm finished, looking up at T'Pol tiredly.

She blinked, leaning away from him a little. "You believe that these entities still intend to do harm to anyone on the surface?"

"Yes!" Malcolm nodded emphatically.

She appeared thoughtful. "We have done extensive scans of the planet and have found no cities, or buildings," she said carefully.

"What? No, that's not possible. I was _there_ T'Pol." He looked at her in a sort of bewildered manner.

Her voice softened, becoming almost gentle. "It is quite impossible that the Commander is in any building on that planet, because there are no buildings."

"I don't understand," Malcolm said faintly, his face turning, if it was possible, a shade paler.

"You are sure this is what happened?"

Malcolm leveled his gaze at her, "I've never been more positive. You must be mistaken about the buildings. Things like that don't just vanish..." he said quietly. "You have to get everyone out of there."

"Lieutenant..." she began but a chirp from her communicator interrupted her.

"T'Pol," she said walking smoothly, but quickly, away from Malcolm.

"Sub-Commander, we have a major issue down here."

"Issue?"

"Uh, it's the Captain, Ma'am. He's vanished. We can't even pick him up on sensors."

"Have you tried contacting him?"

"Yes, Ma'am. We can't raise him."

"Are you quite sure he isn't searching somewhere in the surrounding vicinity?"

"Yes. He was with us; we'd heard a noise and stopped. No one saw anything, and he is not on our scans...it's like I s...." The voice cut out abruptly.

"Ensign," she said. "_Ensign,_ respond." she repeated a little louder.

Dead air answered her.

She turned back to Malcolm who was sitting straight up again in bed. His complexion had taken on a sort of gray cast in addition to the pallid one.

"We waited to long. _It_ has them," he whispered.

"We do not know that," she said calmly.

"_Listen_ to me!" he cried in frustration. "Let me go back down. I can show you where the buildings are. I don't know why you can't pick them up on your scanners, but I swear to you they are there!"

She gazed at him steadily, and though it was a perfectly expressionless Vulcan-like stare, he could tell she struggled inwardly with the decision.

"Every moment we wait it is more likely we will never see the Captain or Trip or anyone down there again. _It_ will most likely take them to the city."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The darkness was odd, for a moment he felt as though someone had thrown a heavy black blanket over him; his limbs refused to move in the directions he wished them to. He blinked, and found himself standing on a rocky hillside. Not too far away he could see ancient ruins that were all but level with the ground.

"...Help him..." came a firm but slippery voice drifting on the wind.

Archer spun around, but there was no one in sight. "Who's there?" he called out loudly.

"...Up the hill..." the voice answered.

"Where are you?"

"...Climb..." the haunting voice whispered.

With extreme caution, he took a few steps up the steep hill, eyes darting over the rough, brown landscape.

"Who are you?" he called out again, taking very slow careful steps.

"...It is not what I am...but what I am to become..." said a voice that seemed to come from all directions at once and disturbingly close to his ears.

"And what is that?" he said, trying to keep the conversation going in hopes of catching a glimpse of the source of the voice.

"...Not much farther...just ahead now..." breathed the voice. "...We need him alive for just a bit longer..."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"There," muttered Phlox, putting a fresh bandage on Malcolm's head. He was grudgingly allowing Malcolm to be released from sickbay. He had told T'Pol it would take a direct order from her and a direct objection from the patient about being treated.

He got both, but was less then pleased about the situation, and insisted that he would have Malcolm beamed off the surface the second his bio signs indicated any sort of decline.

"You know where I stand on this Lieutenant, you're taking your health into your own hands the moment you leave my care."

"I have to," Malcolm said dully, grimacing as the doctor pulled the bandage snugly around his head.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It wouldn't be long now, after so many years of waiting, after so many failed attempts. After all this, finally there had come a being capable of helping It defeat, and reign in Parialter and Diluculo. It laughed to Itself; doubting either knew It still existed.

Once again It would have absolute control. Yes, it would be very soon now...

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

TBC...

a/n: Yeah, I know, I said I would be quicker then this with the update! Really sorry, hangs head in shame

But please review! Reviews of all sorts are most welcome! Let me know what you think!

And thanks to my ever patient beta!

Sit vis nobiscum.

(may the force be with you)

ha. That's one of my favorites.


	14. chapter 14

Disclaimer: see chapter one

a/n: Okay, I really didn't mean for the last chapter to be such a puzzle to everyone. I though everyone would get what had happened right away! Hmm. I have no idea if this is a good or a bad thing.

But I must say thanks for all the great reviews!!! (E.K.: I can't promise anything!)

And off we go...

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Malcolm stepped out of the shuttle, on to that bland looking gray beach. T'Pol exited just behind him. Both had weapons drawn. Malcolm's eyes darted over the landscape. T'Pol watched him carefully; the doctor had requested that she be as attentive as possible to him, in regards to his heath, while they searched.

The Lieutenant shivered as the thin mist fell, though it had more to do with the unnerving silence then actually being cold. He doubted that he would ever be able to enjoy the peaceful solitude of silence again. Quiet had become anything but peaceful to him.

T'Pol moved towards the second shuttle pod that had brought the previous search party to the surface. It appeared abandoned. With a nervous glance over his shoulder at the green trees, Malcolm followed her. The Sub-Commander began to walk around the craft as she turned on her scanner.

"T'Pol, I really don't think..." he began.

But the way in which one of her eyebrows shot up, higher then he thought would be physically possible, even for a Vulcan, silenced him. Her eyes flickered across the display as she read. Not looking up from the device in her hand, she told him in a low tone, "Lieutenant I'm reading a life sign..."

Before she could finish her sentence, something heavy pressed down on Malcolm's shoulder with, what seemed to him, unaccountable speed. With a short, sharp inhale, he whirled around and his fist connected with something solid.

An Enterprise ensign fell back hard on to the beach cursing softly; he held a hand to his bleeding nose. T'Pol moved immediately to the man's side and instructed him to remove his hand so that she could see the damage. It took Malcolm a bit longer to recover; he just stared down at the ensign sitting in the sand.

"It is not broken," she informed the man. Malcolm just stared down at them, in a dazed manner.

"Are you sure?" the ensign grimaced, gingerly touching the purpling feature.

"Quite."

"I-I, sorry," Malcolm stumbled over the words, glancing about nervously, as though waiting for something to jump out at him.

"Where are the others?" T'Pol asked the ensign, pulling him to his feet.

"Just off in those trees, we kept searching for the Captain and the Commander after we lost contact with Enterprise."

"Lost contact?"

"Yeah, our communicators are being blocked some how."

T'Pol looked at him with a relentlessly scrutinizing stare. "You're sure?"

"Well, yes," he said.

Malcolm tried in vain to squash the panic rising within him. "It's here," he said softly.

"Lieutenant?" the ensign puzzled.

T'Pol, with a brief look in Malcolm's direction, continued. "Tell us exactly what happened when the Captain vanished," she instructed.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Archer walked along the uneven landscape; the rain made the pale brown hillside slippery with mud.

He had tried to contact the away team, but had found the signal was scrambled. He experienced similar results with Enterprise.

So he continued to walk, talking to the voice occasionally, and rarely getting a response.

The size of the rocks which were strewn out over the land appeared to becoming larger as he walked on.

Presently, he stumbled as the toe of his boot caught a chunk of stone sticking up out of the ground, half buried. He paused, noticing something odd about this rock. He knelt beside it, brushing away some of the mud around it.

His eyes narrowed, this stone had been carved, and polished on one side. This stone had once been part of a structure. He stood up, eyes sweeping the entire rocky field, half obscured by low hanging clouds that chilled everything with their fine mists. He was not standing on some random hillside. He was walking among the ancient ruins of some long abandoned city.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Right here. We were all standing here when he disappeared." The ensign brought them to the place in the densely wooded area. All the other members of the away team had been accounted for and were continuing the search nearby. T'Pol looked up in to the thick tree branches.

"Did you see anything?" she asked.

Malcolm shook his head. "No, the question should be did you _hear_ anything? Trip and I never saw...much of these beings. But we did hear them."

The ensign looked disconcerted by this. "Funny you should mention that. And what 'beings'?"

Malcolm looked at him closely. "You did hear something, didn't you?"

"Well, I thought I heard something..."

"_Ensign_..." T'Pol said, with an inflection in her calm tone which told him he had better tell her everything he knew on the topic.

"I-I thought I heard a noise, from up there." He gestured to the tree branches above their heads.

"What kind of noise?" Malcolm asked, not entirely capable of keeping all trepidation out of his voice as he poised the hesitant question.

"Sort of a soft hiss. I don't know. The Captain saw me looking up into the tree and came over to see what was up. He musta seen something, because he drew his weapon, we all did the same. It seemed like we waited a full minute before someone noticed that the Captain was gone."

"Gone?" T'Pol asked.

"Vanished." The man nodded.

"It can transport people. It has access to the city's main computer and no doubt to all the technologies this planet use to have."

"'It'?" The ensign asked.

"There is a life form present on this planet." T'Pol told him plainly.

"There is nothing on our scans."

"Our scans are wrong, and it doesn't matter, we have to find Trip and the Captain. Gather your men, and we'll head for the city," Malcolm said, trying to guess at the most direct route to the city. The ensign left, calling for the others.

T'Pol moved next to him. "Are you sure you know the way to go from here?"

Malcolm nodded, "Yes, well enough. We got a pretty good view of the bay where we crashed from atop that mountain."

T'Pol's gaze did not waver.

"I'll get us there, you'll see," he said forcing confidence in to his words.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"...Just a bit farther..."

Archer looked ahead through the fog, shivering in the damp, "Where am I going?" he called out, his voice echoing against the hillside. He was not sure what to hope for when he reached his destination. If what he found there was what he thought he might... He shook his head; it was pointless to worry until he could do something.

"...there, just ahead..." the voice slid over the words.

He continued to march, gravel crunching under his boots. "You've been promising that for the last couple of hours. Are you sure this time?" he retorted.

"...go in..." the voice whispered.

"Where? Go in wh..." His question faded away as a crumbling structure came into view. "And T'Pol said there were no buildings on this planet..."

Not that it was much more then a few moldering stones and a left over foundation. None of the walls appeared to be left intact.

"...forward..." the voice directed.

He stepped over the flat remains of a wall's foundation. He continued to walk. Surely this building had been something when it had been standing.

Then, in the center of the remains, he saw a solid wall. Approaching it, he found it was the four walls of an inner room still very much intact.

"...Yes...enter..."

Archer raised a steady hand to touch to the flat surface of what appeared to be the entrance, but it sprang open just before he touched it. A cool blast of air hit his face. He went in. The interior was dim, lit by a few lights hanging from the ceiling and control consoles. He was baffled by the still operational technology before him. How was it possible if this civilization had been gone for as long as the building had been? He walked cautiously forward. The walls had once been white, but were now dingy and dull. Plant roots were beginning to worm their way through the concrete looking material.

"...Help him..." the voice repeated.

"Who?" Archer asked trying to see through the dimness. He looked at panels on the wall that had been carelessly torn off at some point, it looked recent. He felt his foot slip in something wet on the floor, forcing him to grab the wall to keep from falling. He squinted at the substance in the dark. There was a trail of it. He rounded the corner of a terminal.

"Trip!" he gasped.

Trip lay on the floor, Jon could see blood everywhere.

"Trip," he said again, grasping his friend's cold, cold hand.

"...just a bit longer..." the voice hissed.

"What have you done to him?!" he yelled, feeling sudden relief to find Trip wasn't dead...yet.

"...Nothing that wasn't necessary. Help him. He must live a little longer, or all will be lost."

"What?" he asked, not understanding. He looked back down at the pale face of his Chief Engineer. He squinted in the darkness, something wasn't right...something...

"Trip?" he ventured. The Commander made no answer, but his eyes continued their rapid weird movements under his eyelids.

"I won't need him for much longer," the voice whispered.

Jon could see something was terribly wrong here, as he looked closely down at his friend. And it was much more than the fact Trip was inches from death.

"Archer to Enterprise."

No answer came.

"Enterprise respond!" He said desperately, but knew they could not hear him.

The voice hissed.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

TBC...

a/n: Let me know what you think! Reviews of all sorts are most welcome!

I will apologize again about the time it's taking me to post. Blame it on ridiculous

deadlines set by unreasonably professors!

And a huge thanks to my beta!!!


	15. chapter 15

Disclaimer: see chapter one

a/n: Alright, let see if this chapter doesn't clear a few things up. I'm so happy you all are enjoying this! Your reviews are so encouraging and they keep me plugging along.

Na, I'm having a blast, and I'm glad everyone else seems to be too!

And here we go...

_000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

The rain was still falling. Malcolm barely noticed it anymore. His eyes were focused straight ahead through the thickening mists, every nerve in his body alive, and fully alert.

T'Pol followed closely behind him as they continued stealthily through the greenery. As they walked her gaze, more then once, fell on Malcolm. She watched the Lieutenant closely. This behavior he was exhibiting evoked her concern. He was tense, edgy, and jumped at even the slightest of sounds. She noticed his paranoia increase as each step led them deeper into the woods. She could not logically deny the reservations she held concerning his explanation of events. But neither could she logically dismiss his account.

Presently the trees were thinning, giving way to tall grasses. Evening was drawing near, and Malcolm's pace quickened.

_0000000000000000_

Archer looked helplessly down at the dying engineer.

What could he do? How did this...thing...think he could help? He looked back down at Trip, fighting the horrible calm that threatened to over take him, the calm that comes when one knows that nothing further can be done to aid the situation. He shook the calm of resignation from himself, he _had_ to help him. If only he knew how.

"What have you _done_?" he whispered almost viciously, at It. He began working his arms out of the jacket he was wearing, and then tore it off. Carefully, gently, he wrapped it around Trip's shoulders. Trip's limp body moved with the disconcerting motion of a rag-doll's

"...Good, good...help him..." the silky voice flowed into the Captain's ears. The sound continued to come from an indiscernible direction.

Trip began to shudder as odd little tremors ran through him. His eyes continued their unnerving movements beneath the lids.

"How?!" he demanded, his eyes flitting across the dim room. "Tell me what you're doing to him. Why can't I contact my ship? You want me to help him, tell me what is going on!"

A soft hiss answered him.

Frustration and fear mounting, he called out in angry desperation, "Who are you?!"

"I am Aetas Ferreus."

_0000000000000_

Malcolm paused suddenly in mid-stride. Something wasn't right here. They should have at least have been able to see the buildings by now.

T'Pol nearly ploughed into him; she had not anticipated his abrupt stop.

"Lieutenant?" she asked. "Is something wrong?" Her voice dropped a note in the second half of the query.

He shook his head slowly. "N-no. I, um, must have miscalculated the distant," he murmured, knowing that only she would be able to hear him and not the rest of the away team.

She raised an eyebrow. "Miscalculated?"

He swallowed, briefly closing his eyes. "I'm not mad T'Pol. It's here," he said as if trying to convince himself of his sanity.

"I do not think you are of unsound mind," she said carefully, in her calm demeanor. But it was clear that he was no longer listening. His eyes wandered among the waving tips of the tall grass. The chill wind whipped around them, making the dampness even colder as the last rays of sun vanished from the pale, pale sky.

_00000000000_

"...I need him..." continued Aetas.

"Why?"

"The unconscious mind, such an intriguing thing, was a necessity for what I intended."

"And what exactly do you intend?" Jon retorted, with a sharp edge to his voice. It dumbfounded him that Trip continued to live; he looked as though he were on the threshold of death, yet he continued to live. He was sure every passing moment should have been his last.

"...I have not spoken for many years...my voice was lost...you must see...I have to regain what I've lost...I have to bring the parts back to the whole. He was...good. I have long waited for a being that could aid me in this endeavor."

Archer shook his head. "I don't understand," he said, trying to stifle his growing impatience.

"They are me, I am they, we all belong as one. None of us could continue in the way we were. They have forgotten me, but to be forgotten does not drive one into non-existence. Its effects are not lasting. They are foolish, all their focus on choice," It scoffed.

"Who? Who's focus on choice?" Archer asked, grasping at straws, to find an appropriate way to respond. The only way out of this was, obviously, with the help of this creature, and to obtain that he had to understand what was going on here. His eyes fell back down on Trip's pale, pale face. The engineer groaned. The Captain's brow wrinkled deeply.

"Parialter and Diluculo," It both spat the names and yet, simultaneously spoke them with deep affection. It seemed to chuckle suddenly, in a disturbing manner. "They imagine themselves free; they believe that they can make untainted choices of their own free will. But I have always been there, always the silent bridge between the two, forever the soft voice in their ears, which they believe to be of themselves alone.

No, their 'choices' have been made under the strictest of supervision- my supervision. Ironic that what they value most, they have never experienced."

Jon tried to wrap his mind around this. "What does any of this have to do with Trip?"

"I must regain the control I've lost. It is essential. Diluculo was easily convinced that this being needed to be studied, before he was destroyed, of course. With Diluculo survival, at all costs, is the meaning of existence. And that is a very rational belief, primitive, but rational. I've had It perform these tests on other beings before, as a way of selecting one to aid me when the opportunity arose. But, none of this world's beings provide adequate performances in my trials.

I had all but given up on the idea.

Until these two arrived."

"Who were the people of this world? You don't consider yourself part of it, by the way you've spoken," he stated, beginning to examine Trip's wounds. Beneath the borrowed coat, he noticed the make-shift bandage comprised of a Starfleet regulation shirt firmly tapped down to the Commander's chest.

"They don't matter now. Only I exist."

"I thought you said there were two others."

"We are one. There is only one. Different parts, yes, but the whole is greater, far greater, then the sum of its parts."

"And they don't see it that way?"

"That would go against their nature." The voice flowed, as though amused; Archer noticed that it had been growing steadily stronger and more articulate.

"I am the mediator, and the ultimate choice maker. Together, we make up life, apart, we will surely vanish into non-existence. Together, we will be more powerful then the creators ever dreamed.

But then, what we are, was never what they intended for us to be.

This...being... is serving a great role in making our uniting achievable."

"And how is that?"

"To be free of the machine to which we are bound would mean to leave the crudely designed mind from whence we came. I believe we can exist outside of its restrictions, but only as one.

I had to do something unexpected, Parialter and Diluculo would have rejected this which will ultimately preserve us all.

They have been thrown free of their bonds, and have learned that they cannot survive outside of the flesh. I knew this would occur, and counted on it.

I had Diluculo prepare this being for our purposes and render him unconscious, ready for our entry."

"Entry?"

"Yess..." It hissed with what sounded like delight to Jon. "I have them entrapped within his mind. Soon, I will have completed this task, and we will all be one once more! They resist, but they are fighting a battle they cannot win. Look, see them fight me? Soon, very soon, it will be finished, and we will require neither body nor machine to sustain us."

"What about Trip? Where is he?" Archer asked hoarsely, his mouth had gone dry.

"He is there, somewhere; the unconscious mind is most spacious, most accommodating. And this mind is most flexible for my purpose."

"What will happen when you're finished? When you three are one and you can leave him?" he asked, looking anxiously, but with new disdain, at the twitching engineer.

Aetas seemed to consider. "A non-pertinent factor I have not accounted for. No matter. The answer will not be a mystery for much longer."

_00000000000000000_

The darkness was thicker then Malcolm ever remembered it being here. He squinted through the shadows, still leading the group. As time slipped by into the inky blackness around them, an unpleasant realization dawned on him; it wasn't here, the city simple wasn't here. He bit his rising panic. T'Pol was right. He was losing his mind. He knew what he'd seen, he kept reminding himself of that, but how could he have? This place did not exist. T'Pol said it didn't. These thoughts sent a chilling thrill through him. He felt utterly helpless; it was terrifying to find himself trying to sort out simple reality. It was as though he was drowning in his own mind.

Suddenly, he felt his shoulder strike a hard corner. He stumbled forward, catching himself before he hit the ground.

"Lieutenant, are you alright?" T'Pol asked, steadying him.

"F-fine..." he started, shining his light back to find what he had hit.

The beam of light revealed a crumbling wall. Slowly, cautiously, he approached it, T'Pol following in his wake.

It was old, much older then the city he'd been in had seemed. He ran his hand across it.

"T'Pol," he said almost breathlessly, sweeping his light across the landscape, "were here."

_000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

TBC...

Reviews of all sorts are most welcome! I'd love to hear what you think about this!

a/n: Congrats to quickbeam1 for her sleuthing abilities! You're getting warmer...; )

I know I keep saying I'm almost done, but you know it can't be too much longer now!

And thanks to my awesome beta reader for all her encouragement and help!!


	16. chapter 16

Disclaimer: see chapter one

a/n: Whew! Almost there...( Thanks for all the great reviews!)

_000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

T'Pol's light swept across the decayed and crumbling city. Odd forms, not quite geometric anymore, not quite organic yet, cast peculiar shadows under the harsh light's scrutiny. The away team quickly fanned out. T'Pol returned to the spot were Malcolm was studying the particular wall he had first found.

"Lieutenant?" she asked softly. He didn't answer but instead brushed away some dirt off the fallen structure before him.

"I've seen this before, but when it wasn't nearly so old..." He frowned, glancing at her, "This used to be relief sculpture." He ran a hand over a chipped irregular patch on the stone-like slab.

T'Pol inclined her head delicately to the side, her eyes tracing over the area he had touched. "It may well have been," she said quietly. "But right now we need your help in locating the Captain and Commander Tucker."

He turned his head, looking over his shoulder at her calm figure. "Of course," he said quickly, rising and walking away. He shivered and fought with a feeling of apprehension; this wasn't how it was supposed to be. He wished he were far, far from this place. He let his light wash over a set of crumbling stairs, and began to try to remember where that building with the wicked spires had been. He climbed over the rubble; nothing looked familiar. It had all been nearly reduced to dust. A hard wind kicked up, ruffling his hair and sending a chilly blast straight through his coat. A soft hiss filled his ears. His legs betrayed him, and he went tumbling down the other side of the rubble pile he'd been scaling.

He recovered rapidly, drawing the weapon that rested on his hip. "Where have you got them?" he growled through clenched teeth.

The hiss formed a chilling laugh.

Malcolm went rigid; he felt the hair on the back of his arms prickle. "Damn it, I know it's you. What have you done with him? Why weren't we both transported?" he asked louder.

A cold whisper sliced through the air. "You don't know who I am."

"The hell I don't!" Malcolm nearly shouted.

"Lieutenant."

Malcolm whipped around; T'Pol was gazing down at him from the pile of flotsam. "Is there someone down there?" Her phaser was drawn.

_00000000000000000000_

Trip's body began to contort, the engineer gasped. Jon tried to hold him still, to keep him from hurting himself. He tried his communicator again. Nothing. A gust of air had blown the door to the small room open.

"What's happening?" he demanded over the rising wind.

No one answered him. Trip groaned. The Captain's attention immediately turned back to him.

"Trip? Trip!" he called loudly.

"No...no...why?" Trip moaned incoherently.

"I'm going to get you out of here."

"No. Leave us alone. Why can't you leave? This is not what we wish..." he made a strange strangling noise. "You're foolish. It is too late." His voice took on an all too familiar cadence with that last statement.

Archer resisted the sudden fear that coursed through him and repelled him from his engineer. It was Trip's voice, but Trip was not speaking. What he heard was the voices of those _things_.

Trip made a noise of intense suffering and his back arched up off the floor, his face contorted in pain. His body went stiff as a board. The wind seemed to come from all directions, blinding Jon. Crackles and pops of arcing electricity emanated from computer consoles around the room.

_00000000000000000000_

T'Pol signaled the rest of the away team to the hill as she descended it gracefully.

"It's here," Malcolm told her, keeping to himself the doubts he felt about which of the two it had been. However, the detail did not escape T'Pol.

"Do you know which of the two we are dealing with?"

Malcolm shook his head. "I couldn't tell."

"I believe you said that Parialter and Diluculo were quite easy to distinguish from one another."

"Yes, I did. I don't know why it's different now, but I can't say for certain which one was speaking."

"Could you hypothesize?" She spoke it more as an order than a request.

"Parialter," he said reluctantly.

"You believe that It could have destroyed Diluculo?"

"It's doubtful. That is not what I thought would happen," he muttered, "but nothing here seems to happen the way I suppose it should."

The wind suddenly blew with such fierceness, the two officers had to brace themselves against it. There was a soft glow of light off in the distance, it repeated, over and over, like small explosions.

"Wind...is not...a...good sign!" Malcolm yelled over the noise. "Head for the lights!"

_000000000000000_

A mist seemed to be gathering in the room. The Captain held Trip down by the arms, his writhing had not ceased. Things continued to explode, and debris was being whipped about the room with alarming speed. Archer leaned protectively over the Commander.

"Yes..." a voice breathed. The mists were becoming thick. They were beginning to take on a form; it gathered and swelled above Trip's prostate body. Jon watched, almost hypnotized by the ever changing shape of the mists gathering before him.

A loosened wire sparked, and tore free of the console to which it had been attached, catching the distracted Captain off guard, and struck him in the temple. He fell to the floor, unconscious.

_000000000000000_

The horizon glowed red. The sun was rising. Malcolm felt the gravel crunch under his feet as he ran towards the lights that could still be dimly seen. He had to hurry, a feeling down deep told him everything hung in a very unsteady balance.

There was a brilliant flash from the source of the lights in the distance. The ground trembled violently and the ruins shook and tumbled down. Hot pale sunlight washed over the land as the sun pulled itself up into the colorless sky.

"We've got to get there!" he called back to T'Pol, and froze, astonished by what he saw. A deep narrow gorge had opened up in the ground, separating Malcolm from the away team. T'Pol was helping pull a crewman to safety. She looked across the newly formed canyon at Malcolm.

"Keep going! We will go around!" she called to him. He turned back hesitantly, towards the small structure in the foothills ahead. Darkness seemed to linger about the place, despite the bright rays of dawn. He nodded, with a short wave in the Sub-Commander's direction, and continued on his way at a desperate pace.

_00000000000_

He faltered over the ancient foundation outlining what he could only assume had been the building he had left Trip in. An unnatural darkness seemed to hang in the air around this place, a blackness that the sun's rays didn't seem to be capable of penetrating. He didn't see any sign of the missing pair.

The darkness seemed to have a source. The darkest area looked to be dead center in the crumbling frame around him. He didn't consider heading away from it. This was where he knew they would be. If they were anywhere anymore.

His light did little to cut the dim smokiness around him. Apprehensively, he approached a tumbled down partition that looked to be the axis of these shadows. It was a room, he could see lights flickering through gaping holes in the material. Odd that this should stand while everything else was nearly ground level. Holding his breath without realizing it, he entered.

_00000000000000000000_

The interior was not nearly as dark as it had been outside. He extinguished his light. Electrical panels crackled and sparked; he knew this place, but it looked as though a hurricane had blown through here. He gingerly brushed aside some hanging wires. Part of the roof had collapsed, it was hard to see what was ahead.

"Trip?" he called out. He knew it was a pointless activity, but the overbearing silence was destroying his nerve.

Then, just ahead he made out what appeared to be human form. His teeth clenched and his face tightened, but he took purposeful strides over towards the shape.

"Captain!" he gasped.

The Captain lay face down, a nasty slash across the side of his face bleeding freely. The Lieutenant rolled him onto his back.

He laid three fingers across a spot on the unconscious man's neck.

"Captain, Captain!" Malcolm called, giving his commanding officer a shake to no avail.

That spine-chilling hiss filled the room.

Slowly Malcolm looked up from Archer, and leveled his gaze on the sight before him.

Trip lay rigid a few feet away from him, as pale as death. Malcolm knew the man should be dead, but there was something about him that still looked alive. His eyes were slightly open, they looking glassily upward. And as though following the Commander's unseeing gaze, Malcolm lifted his eyes.

A dark, translucent form hovered in the air. It swayed as though it were a cloud of smoke, rapidly changing from abstract form to abstract form. Malcolm gaped in terror at the frightening beauty of Its freakish appearance.

A cackle filled the room.

"So you see, I'm nearly free of all restraint! No machinery holds my mind captive; my exploration of this world holds no bounds," It proclaimed triumphantly. "Once more I have been made whole, and my mind is free to wander where it will. Soon my form shall be able to as well, now that those two willful ones are again at my mercy." It laughed coldly.

Malcolm looked in horror from Trip to the shape. "Who are you?!" he demanded, all too clearly realizing that this thing was neither Parialter nor Diluculo.

"I am Aetas Ferrius."

Malcolm glanced back down at the Captain, then said, "I though that was Diluculo's name before he became what he is. That is the name your creators gave the program. You no longer exist."

"Really? You think that even now? So those two ignorant fools thought as well. No, Diluculo is not me, It is a part of me, the same as Parialter is a part of it, and therefore a part of me as well. It is more like I am them, then they are me. I was weak in those early days and Diluculo emerged with such passion and vengeance, I all but disappeared. So they believed I was gone, or was in fact Diluculo.

But beliefs are meaningless when groundless. I was there. I was always there. They did not take care to look in the right places. I guided and whispered to them, and they never failed to react to even my slightest of prompts. I controlled them by the power of suggestion.

However, they were growing restless, and even Diluculo's insatiable killing was no longer enough for It. They were changing, and I soon recognized the danger in such a thing if it took place when we were not complete as one. If one of us were quicker then the others, if one were slower, it would surely be our demise; yes, we grow as one or we don't at all.

I've done my best to prevent it, and to stall it until I knew how to rein in the two. Another mind. A most apt mind was all I lacked, until you came."

Malcolm's head was spinning. "How, how is this all possible? Is that the truth? Forgive me for doubting your word, but the last time I was in this city, it was more impressive then a mound of moldering stones! Nothing can be taken at face value, apparently."

"The city you saw, was a city of the past. Just an image, just an illusion."

"What?"

"There are many historical images stored in our database, and it is quite simple to recreate them with the correct technologies."

"Which would be?"

"Holographic technologies, the structures you saw have long since fallen."

It let out a long hiss suddenly, and swelled. Trip's body went limp and his head rolled to one side.

"STOP! You'll kill him!" Malcolm shouted, jumping to his feet. The ever changing misty formation above Trip seemed to falter, and slow.

"No, no, it is too soon, this one, he was too weak to finish this..." It muttered, "...but perhaps the other... no, he was not prepared like this one..." It seemed to argue with Itself. "...there is no time! We have no choice." The eerie form drew Itself up. In a split second, Malcolm realized what was happening.

The shadowy thing dived for Archer.

"NO!" Malcolm cried as he pulled his phaser and threw himself in front of the Captain. He fired.

_000000000000000_

T'Pol led the away team into the peculiarly darkened spot of the ancient city. She walked dauntlessly into the thickest section of shadow. Her head suddenly whipped around

"Ensign, did you hear anything?" she asked the man next to her.

He listened, "Yeah, that way, it sounds sort of like..." he thought.

"A weapon being discharged," she finished for him. The ground began to shake.

_00000000000000000_

Malcolm fired madly. The form let out a low-pitched cry, the room shook, and a bit of crumbling ceiling fell and knocked the phaser from his hand, he cringed as it went skittering across the room.

The lights flickered; Malcolm stared up at the rapidly darkening form of Aetas, frozen in place.

The formerly translucent manifestation went black as jet, and shrank until it was a fist size ball, spinning in mid-air.

The Lieutenant thought he'd gone deaf because of the sudden silence.

But then, in one violent movement, the form exploded back to Its original size, but it didn't stop there; it continued to expand at an incredible rate. Suddenly it grew thin, misty, and with a blinding flash, the thing let out an unbearable wail, and it was gone.

_000000000000000_

T'Pol raised her arm protectively, and turned her head to the side. The small remnant of an interior room lit up brilliantly, emanating a light that competed with the sun itself.

She opened her eyes. The sun was shining brightly now, having risen high in the sky. There was no lingering darkness over the ruins.

She made a dash for the standing remnant.

_00000000000000000_

It was dark. All the panels had gone dim, but giant cracks in the four walls around him provided enough light to move about.

Malcolm scrambled over the newly fallen debris that was flung about.

"Lieutenant!" he heard T'Pol call.

"In here! This way!" he shouted back, and continued to shove a fallen control panel out of the way.

She proceeded into the dim room, and found Malcolm towards the back. He was pulling the Captain out from under a light-weight panel.

"Is he alright?" she asked kneeling beside him. Archer stirred a little.

"Yeah, I think so," Malcolm said, a little out of breath.

"Did you find the Commander?"

Malcolm nodded, "Over there." Trip lay behind a console that had been over-turned. Two blue jackets were laid carefully across his torso.

T'Pol was startled by the whiteness of his skin. His hand felt icy to the touch.

"Is he..."

"No," Malcolm said quickly. "Not yet. But without communications we'll never get back to Enterprise in time," he said gravely.

T'Pol blinked slowly, then asked, not taking her eyes off of the Commander, "And the entities?"

"They're gone," Malcolm said decidedly.

"You are sure?" she asked.

He nodded.

T'Pol flipped open her communicator. "If they are gone, they will no longer be blocking our transmissions," she deduced logically. "T'Pol to Enterprise,"

"Go ahead," came a static voice.

"We have a medical emergency; we need to be transported off the surface."

"Acknowledged."

Malcolm offered her a faint smile as the rest of the away team entered, having finally caught up.

T'Pol's communicator chirped.

"T'Pol."

"We are encountering problems locking onto you down there. It isn't going to be possible to use the transporter. Communications still aren't operating correctly so standby. We're sending a shuttle to you coordinates, it should arrive with in the next fifteen minutes." The voice crackled loudly, fading in and out.

"Acknowledged," T'Pol said.

Malcolm frowned, "He may not have even that much time."

_00000000000000000_

Outside in the bright light of day, an ensign searched the pallid sky.

"There they are!"he said to another as he pointed to a shining point that had appeared in its vast emptiness.

"Sub-Commander! They're here!" one called back into the ruins.

Not too much time had elapsed. They had moved Trip and Archer outside. Malcolm hoped that the sun would warm the Commander, who was steadily worsening.

The Captain, however, was coming around.

"Captain, Captain Archer," T'Pol called to him.

He flinched, and a moan escaped his lips. Slowly, his eyes opened a crack in the bright sunlight.

"T'Pol? What happened?" he murmured, trying to sit up.

T'Pol pressed his shoulder. "Don't move. We will be returning to Enterprise as soon as the shuttle arrives," she said softly.

He leaned back, his head was throbbing. T'Pol's eyes lit on Malcolm who was by Trip, but too jumpy to remain still. He paced back and forth, occasionally throwing a weary glance over his shoulder.

The shuttle touched down. Trip and Archer were quickly placed aboard.

Malcolm and T'Pol were the last to get on.

As Malcolm waited just behind her a hiss filled his ears. His hair stood on end, his head snapped around. A misty vapor was floating through the ruins.

No, It was gone, he'd killed it. This couldn't be... he shook his head and looked again.

The form had solidified a little more and taken on a strange sort of gait, as though it were no longer floating, the mists formed strange appendages that propelled It forward.

"T'Pol!" Malcolm whispered frantically. "It's here!"

T'Pol whipped around. The ruins were peacefully basking in the sun. No sign of It.

"Are you sure?" she asked looking at him with more concern then he liked.

"Yes! I saw it!" He pointed.

"We should go," she said, climbing quickly into the pod. Malcolm strained his eyes looking across the landscape

Then he saw it. A tail of mist, slinking among the shadows of the demolished city, and a pair of iridescent violet eyes looking directly at him. He felt his heart skip. Soft laughter floated to him on a balmy breeze, not a laugh of the sane.

"Lieutenant! Now!" T'Pol said loudly. He scrambled into the pod.

T'Pol told the pilot to take off, in a voice with less then the normal amount of Vulcan calm.

The shuttle lifted off the planet's surface.

_000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

TBC

a/n: Reviews of all sorts are most welcome! Let me know what you think of it!

And a huge thanks to my Beta for the pointers! I know this was a longer chapter ;)


	17. chapter 17

Disclaimer: see chapter one

a/n: Hey! Thanks so much for the reviews!! (Thanks for letting me know about the ambiguous description in the last chapter Gally Gee!) I apologize for the delay in posting the ending. Time stuff, ya know how it is.

Now, on to the conclusion...

_000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

It was dark. Very dark. He felt warm, but a cool draft cut into the air's warmth and made his skin prickle. He shivered.

A fierce snarl echoed off the close confining walls around him. Iridescent purple flashed brightly in the black abyss before him.

Malcolm gasped and opened his eyes.

He sat stiffly with his back to a corner of the peaceful decontamination chamber. He leaned his head backward and raked a hand through his brown hair, making it stand in a most irregular, most untidy fashion.

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he found his muscles were cramped. He was still holding them as though he expected to need to jump up at any moment. With a sigh of self-reproach, he forced himself to uncross his arms and attempted to relax them. This was ridiculous; the thing was not here, he reminded himself; he was safe, safe on Enterprise.

"Your time is up." A voice spoke through the intercom on the wall. Malcolm rose slowly, and walked over to the door.

_00000000000000000 _

"How is he?" Archer asked, wincing as a sudden, sharp pain, ran through his head. A slight noise of discomfort escaped his lips.

"Sorry Captain," a medic said, tone void of emotion as she concentrated, "I'm almost done." She carefully sealed the gash on his head the heavy electrical cable had caused.

Malcolm was led into the large open room of sickbay. The Captain was situated on a bed underneath a bright light as his wound was being attended to.

"Malcolm," the Captain said, catching sight of the Lieutenant. "How are you feeling?" he asked with a look of concern. The last time he had seen him, he had been lying on the gray beach. Archer gave him the once over and decided that he looked better.

Malcolm nodded gravely."I'm fine, Sir," he said. "How's Trip?" he added softly.

"I was just inquiring about that," the Captain said, with a look at the medic.

"He's still in surgery Sir; I'll tell you as soon as we know anything," she said, laying aside her instrument on a tray as Malcolm was being directed to a bed adjacent to the Captain's. "Try and get some rest."

Archer watched him. Malcolm looked completely drained as he eased himself down against his pillow. Slowly, gravity seemed to force his eyelids down. The Captain watched the Lieutenant's eyes fall shut.

_00000000000_

"Run all the necessary scans."

"Yes Sub-commander."

T'Pol looked down on the small planet that hung in the bridge's large window. This creature certainly wasn't like any being she'd encountered before, but then she'd encountered quite a few things out here that she hadn't expected.

Her mind strayed a little to those in sickbay, particularly Commander Tucker. He'd stopped breathing at one point on the way back to Enterprise. His condition was extremely grave.

Her thoughts were interrupted.

"Sub-Commander..." an ensign said looking up from his console. "The entity is, uh, It's um, moving... well, not exactly moving...it's like it's getting bigger, expanding...I don't understand it," he said, frowning in confusion. "It must be a scanner malfunction."

T'Pol's eyes narrowed, she moved swiftly to his side. "This can't be," she murmured, tapping a few keys.

"I know, by this reading, It's extending Itself into space," the ensign said with a note of concern.

"No, not It, energy. A projection," T'Pol said, with a hint of tension in her even voice.

"Ma'am, I'm picking up something on B deck," came a report from Malcolm's station on the bridge. T'Pol's head snapped up. "Something's aboard..."

_00000000000000_

It was quite.Very quite. Malcolm opened his eyes and enjoyed the few brief seconds of serenity before he would remember why he was staring at sickbay's ceiling.

He turned and loosened the stifling sheets that someone had tucked in around him while he'd slept. The Captain was no longer occupying the bed next to his. He wondered how long he'd been out.

He leaned back on the pillow, expelling a soft breath.

There came a cackle that cut through the room's stillness.

The Lieutenant shut his eyes and his hands balled up, grasping the sheets he lay on. 'Stop thinking, this is pure paranoia, It's not here, It's on the planet...' he told himself firmly.

"Do you really believe that?" the horrible, serene voice whispered.

His brow wrinkled in concentration. "You're not here, you can't be here," he barely breathed.

"Yet, here we are."

Malcolm refused to open his eyes. "It doesn't make sense. Why would you be here? You got what you wanted from us, didn't you?"

"Ah, yes, it is true! We have no need of you, or your species. But there is much for us to learn yet and we could gain much knowledge with a _vessel_ such as this...yes, a ship like this would be most efficient for our work," It purred.

Malcolm felt his body tremble, and his eyes jerked wide open.

It was in the room with him.

_0000000000000_

The ship suddenly shuddered.

"Engineering report," T'Pol said curtly.

"Uh, something's wrong with the computer system down here, our commands are being overridden," a man responded, sounding extremely agitated; most of the ship had heard rumors about what had happened down on the surface.

The lights flickered.

"Ensign Mayweather, take us out of here!" T'Pol said loudly, her eyes locked onto the screen that displayed the intruding energy.

_000000000000_

The thing moved, with Its disturbing movements, towards Malcolm. "So you see, we really don't have any further need for any of your species," It hissed.

"No, STAY AWAY FROM ME!" he shouted twisting helplessly in the binding sheets, tearing at them.

It laughed. "What do you think you can do to stop me?"

Malcolm tumbled out of the hospital bed, still struggling to free himself from the bedding, and knocking over a tray of instruments. The thing propelled Itself with terrifyingly bizarre motions ever closer.

The Lieutenant reached for a fallen, and particularly wicked looking, piece of medical equipment. The room trembled. He could feel the ship lurch forward; he blinked. It was gone.

Malcolm exhaled shakily, letting his would be weapon fall to the floor with a clatter.

_000000000_

"It's gone," reported an ensign on the bridge, with some measure of astonishment.

T'Pol's posture relaxed ever so slightly, as she watched the stars flying past them.

"Sub- Commander, how, how did you know?"

T'Pol turned her head towards the wondering crewman. "The entity is still bound to that planet. Unless it could insert Itself, or a part of Itself, into Enterprise's computer system, I do not believe it could physically leave It's environment," she said calmly.

"Archer to T'Pol." The Captain had been released from sickbay to his quarters. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes Captain, however, I would like to meet you in the ready room. There have been some developments that I need to inform you of."

"On my way."

_00000000000_

"How is he?" Malcolm inquired three-days after Enterprise had left a particular quadrant of space.

Phlox looked up from the odd plant he was tending. "Ah, Lieutenant, you're here early this morning." Malcolm had been visiting sickbay every morning at 06:00, to check in on Trip.

The Lieutenant's tidy appearance was as crisp as ever, he looked much more like himself than he had of late. The only visible hints that he had been unwell recently, was a lingering pallor about his face, and a small bandage still covering a temple.

The Commander's condition had been serious, and even when the doctor had completed the surgery, it hadn't been clear whether or not he would live. The last few days had been tense as they waited for Trip to turn the corner.

"I was just about to call you down here. He's been asking for you."

"Is he awake doctor?" Malcolm asked.

"Yes, he woke about an hour ago. The Captain is in with him now, waiting to see if he'll wake again soon."

"May I...?" he gestured to the curtained off area. Phlox nodded.

_000000000000000_

Trip slowly opened his eyes. He looked blearily at the nearly double image of whom he was fairly certain to be the Jon sitting to one side of him. "Hey Cap'n," he croaked out.

"How are you feeling?" Jon asked gently.

"I'm pretty sure I've felt better." He said words slightly slurred.

Archer smiled. "I'm sure you have. You know you are very lucky to be here."

"What happened..." he asked in a hoarse whisper, trying to get his eyes to cooperate with him. He was trying to organize his scattered and fuzzy thoughts.

Archer's smile faded slightly. "There'll be plenty of time to debrief you later," he said giving the engineer's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Where's Malcolm?" he asked, voice falling slightly.

"I'm here Commander," said the Lieutenant said carefully returning the curtain he had pushed aside back into place.

"A-are you okay?" he asked with a weak break in his voice.

"I'm fine." He said quietly approaching.

Trip nodded, still only really able to identify Malcolm by his distinctive accent. The Commander began to cough.

"Alright, I believe the Commander has had quite enough visiting for today," said Phlox, hurrying in and helped Trip sit up a bit more. He began to breathe a bit easier.

"Get some rest," Jon said softly, and rose to his feet.

"Right," Trip wheezed.

"I'll be back to check in with you later," Malcolm said with a rare, open, smile.

"Hey, Malcolm," Trip called rather feebly.

The Lieutenant turned, with an attentive quizzical look.

"Would you mind doin' me a favor?"

"Name it."

"Remind me, if I ever get the notion in my head again, not to get into anymore shuttle pods with you."

Malcolm chuckled, "Alright, as long as you promise visa versa."

"Agreed." Trip smiled.

"Good, we have a deal. Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow then," Trip nodded and drifted off.

_The End_

_000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

a/n: Reviews of all sorts are most welcome, and most appreciated! I would really love to hear what you think of this now that it is finished. Thanks for reading!!

This was my first attempt at fan fiction writing; and I can't tell you how grateful I am for all the encouragement. So many of you are such brilliant writers, I couldn't be more honored to have you offer your thoughts and advice to me! Thank you so much!

Thanks to:

Exploded Pen

Quickbeam1

Drogna

Plumtuckered

GallyGee

Rinne

lieutenants-lady

The Libran Iniquity

Phaser Lady

kaliedescopecat

Aeryn Lavanthia

Ocean

Luna

Laura B

Zenna

stage manager

Emiliana Keladry

ChRsTiNe17

cryogenie

Mo Cat

CordeliaBlack

Drakcir

Julie

Wuemsel

Marianne

Sky29

fiona

TEEny

Coz5000

Shorina

Daria

WhtevrHpnd2Mary

Jenna

Andrea

Heather Martin

trecia

Eva

Armand

emma

Asic

Mirage

Misty-Kid

Roper

Pethron

poffie

Streghetta

Blackkat13

...for reading/reviewing!

And thanks to anyone who might review after this is posted!

Also a special thanks to Rinne, my beta, whose patients and advice made this story better than I ever thought it could be. Thank you!

Well, I guess that's all I need to say for now. I fully intended only to post once on this site, but now, I may just stick around a little while longer. I do have another story in mind...

Thanks again, see ya 'round!

-G. Eliot


End file.
